


BAD END AU

by ladytrollfishes (tangelotime), xaviul



Category: BAD END AU - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Brainwashing, Gen, bad stuff man its in the name
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 04:09:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 111,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16674253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangelotime/pseuds/ladytrollfishes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xaviul/pseuds/xaviul
Summary: Once upon a time. There was a What if- What if Daginy was caught by the imperials and brainwashed into being a 'rehabilitated soldier?'Tadaaa. AU time.





	1. The First One That Doesn't Count Because Literally Nothing Else Connects To It

You can’t help but wonder what happened.

You know your story– you were a rebel against the empire, a threat to the unity of the system, when a major in Scimitar recognized your potential and recruited you into IPC. You have none of these memories anymore. They were judged as unnecessary in your reformation.

There are still clues all over your body. Scars of all shapes and sizes litter your skin. All you have to do is turn your palms up for you to wonder what in the world you were doing that got you burn scars all over your palms.

The docterrorist was discussing procedures to fix your hands– sometimes they lose feeling which is unfortunate, but the nerve damage is so old now, in a place so tricky and sensitive, the most they could do was probably was cosmetic.

You don’t want to spend the rest of your life wondering about what happened to your hands and removing the scars might let you put it to rest.

You make your way to the docterrorist now, the skin against the implant at the back of your neck itching. Not only did they have to make sure the physical machinery doesn’t reject, but that series of drug cocktails would not overload you. You are a good deal smaller than the average troll which meant there was less margin for error in dosage.

Your powers don’t require as much nullification to control as some of your cohort. You’re versatile but you’re still not a battle specialist. Most of the cocktail that was going into you were amplifiers. With them, you can change quite a bit about the battlefield, so long as your battery can cope with it.

In the few tests they’ve run so far, you’ve proven pretty effective, even if your teamwork needs more work. You’re looking forward to what you’ll be able to do.

“Daginy,” you hear, and feel a hand on your shoulder. Your body reacts before you do, tearing away and stumbling forward, you pushed pumping away rapidly as you prepare for a fight– it’s just Major Urvata. He stands there, hand outstretched, with a somewhat perplexed expression on his face.

You immediately blush and stammer, “M-my apologies, sir, you uh-you startled me.”

You still can feel the adrenaline running through you, the animal desire to back away from a superior officer. You wish you knew why you reacted this way sometimes. That way maybe you wouldn’t feel like an alien possessing your own body.

Major Urvata looks at you, retracts his hand.

“I merely wanted to inquire as to how you were settling in,” he says.

“I’ve been good,” you say with a nod. “I’m looking forward to training with the rest of my battery. I’m actually headed to the docterrorist now for a check up.”

“I am glad to hear that,” he replies. “Then I won’t keep you any further.”

You nod, and despite your nervousness, turn away from him and continue on your way.

Your hands are are still shaking. You really wish you knew why you were so scared.


	2. The Magpie's Last Stand

Herlyn rolls out a little map of the area on the ground, keeping it flat by placing a few miscellaneous objects on the corners- a book, a glass, a container of cottage cheese left half open on the table.

“So what do we got?” she asks, looking up at Daginy, who squats down, squinting at it.

They point on the map, at the building they broke into.

“They’ve quarantined everything off from here,” they say, tracing out the boundaries of the encounter. “To here. They’re probably going to come in once they’re done with recon.”

Less than an hour ago, the call for all block 32d residents had been called to evacuate through a quarantine due to rebel infiltration. At the exits, there were ID checks and pat downs and facial recognition software and there was no way they were making it through there without getting caught.

This was the end of the line.

“Batteries 361 and 996 are here,” Daginy say, and ticks the powers off their fingers. “Constructs, strength, teleportation, lasers, water, intangibility, birds, damage absorption.”

Mysmus whistles low from behind them, peering over their shoulder.

“Quite a line up,” he says. “What are our chances?”

Herlyn looks up at him.

“How much ammo you got?” she asks.

“Twenty for the little one and six for the big,” he replies.

Herlyn sighs and leans back on her hands.

“Slim to none,” she says. “I give us less than 1% for all of us to get away safely. And we need to move fast if want even some of us to survive.”

Daginy bites their lip, examining the map. Herlyn is going to sacrifice herself, they realize with growing dread. 

“Percents?” they ask.

“Fifty-fifty Daginy gets out,” she says, looking at them. They were the smallest, the best at hiding, the best equipped for stealth. “Twenty percent for the both of you.” They did make a good team- they covered most each other’s weaknesses. “Ten for Mysmus alone.” He’s better at stealth than Herlyn, but he’d get chased down without Daginy covering him. “And like zero for me.”

She laughs ruefully, running a hand through her hair.

“Herlyn-” Daginy whispers. “You can’t.”

“Look it’s a miracle I made it out this far,” she says. “Ain’t exactly sneaky. Here on out I’m just gonna slow you down to be honest.”

Mysmus puts a hand on Daginy’s shoulder and squeezes. Herlyn had saved them so many times already, forged her way through so many conflicts- to think of her dying in battle was near unthinkable.

“But-” Daginy says.

“I’m the only front liner we got,” she interrupts. “We try anything without a distraction and we all die cuz we’re outnumbered as shit. So here’s the plan.”

Daginy has never heard a plan they hated more, but it  _is_ their best shot.

“We need to move fast,” Herlyn says, rolling up the map and getting to her feet. “While we have some sort of upper hand.”

“Herlyn-” they say, catching her hands. “Herlyn I’m-”

“Hey,” she says, and smiles down at them. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Don’t worry about me I’m fine. These are the bastards who executed Alnica yeah?”

Daginy nods slowly, apprehensive, and Herlyn’s smile turns hard as she pats them on the shoulder. 

The only real regret she has is that she wasn’t there when they had found Alnica. In her mind, Herlyn draws her line in the sand.

“Then they’ll get theirs when I get mine,” she says firmly, pulling a couple bottles from her sylladex. “Now get in position.”

She speaks as a commander, not as a friend.

“Herlyn,” Daginy says, their voice cracking. Their relationship isn’t perfect- Herlyn’s never quite stopped seeing them as a kid to protect, but they’ve fought together for too long now. “I love you. You know that right?”

They blink back tears in their one remaining eye and she looks back at them, smiling sadly. They’ve never said as much before, but for what other reason have they stayed around?

“I know,” she says. “Me too.”

Daginy and Mysmus head to the roof. When they’re up there, Daginy gives them cover- true invisibility. It’s difficult to maintain, especially for two people, but they don’t have much of a choice.

Birds of all species flit from building to building. Hirast Aggino, brownblood, communes with them. Enemy reconnaissance. Daginy peers over the edge of the building as Mysmus sets up his rifle.

Their opponents are arranged in the streets, the quarantine only spreading across a couple city blocks. The Empire has decided, apparently, that they were too dangerous to let go, even in a crowded city.

The frontliners are on the ground. Nanako Bonjou, oliveblood, strength, Vadaya Urvata, purpleblood, constructs, Virull Baboyi, water, yellowblood, all stand on the street, waiting for the order to go in.

Behind the building is Casman Kainya, yellowblood, lasers, Ignira Fillop, oliveblood, intangibility, and Tadani Porolo, redblood, absorption, to keep people from sneaking out.

Hirast and Zavare Yuudai, tealblood, teleportation, have taken the high ground, standing on the edge of a building across the street. Hirast has his eyes closed, face tilted towards the sky, connecting with the birds, while Zavare surveys the street below.

Daginy points out the brownblood to Mysmus, who trains his crosshair on him. Killing never did come easy to them. Even now, they hold regrets for their role in the coming carnage. It was easier when they were alone- when the choice was simply run or die- but they could not in good conscience let their friends go to battle without their support.

Mysmus has no such compunctions. It doesn’t matter so much to him what the outcome of this is, so long as Daginy comes out of it alive. The fact they have the best chance is a relief. He puts a hand on their invisible knee and pats it.

“Ready?” he asks, and puts his finger on the trigger. Daginy finds his hand and gives it a squeeze.

“Yes,” they say. It’s a lie, but they won’t ever be ready for this and they need to get moving.

Herlyn waits down below in the lobby for the signal that Daginy and Mysmus are in place. An illusory bird flies down past the street, displaying its black and white wings, and disappears.

Hirast opens his eyes and his mouth, and a shot rings out. He collapses.

“Sniper!” Zavare screams and winks off the roof as Herlyn kicks down the front door and throws a molotov cocktail, setting fire to the ground under the feet of the imperials.

Vadaya constructs platforms and leaps on one, Nanako and Virull jumping on the other. Zavare lands next to Vadaya, just in time to avoid the flames.

“ONE UP FRONT,” Vadaya bellows.

“The teleporter,” Daginy whispers. Mysmus lines up his shot.

An enormous purple shield spreads over the battle on the street as the gun goes off. The shot cracks the shield, the bullet missing the fatal shot and scoring a hot line down Zavare’s cheek. They look up, a bead on the direction of the sniper.

“I got it,” they say, and wink out again.

Nanako dives in for the entrance, breaking the door in pieces, neatly dodging a swipe from one of Herlyn’s twin blades, attached to her arms.

Her skates are long defunct now– she’s on her feet as she dodges one blow, then the next.

Zavare lands on top of Mysmus, and for a moment everyone startles. They trip, Daginy reels backwards, Mysmus grabs for the hand gun. The invisibility drops.

“Two here!” Zavare yells and winks back out before they hit the ground.

Nanako forces Herlyn back out onto the streets. Virull sweeps aside the burning alcohol and swipes at Herlyn with blade of water. Purple spikes dive at her. The water blade cuts, yellow blood splattering against the ground, but she whirls out of the trajectory of the spikes. 

Zavare reappears at the center of the roof. Mysmus whirls and takes a shot. Daginy draws a knife and spreads out copies of their image across the roof. They disappear again. 

Nanako looks up at the sound of another shot and bounds upward, digging her hands into the sides of buildings, making her own hand holds. Herlyn shoves psi into every metal thing on imperial bodies, and there’s a chorus of screams as the flesh connection to their prosthetics start burning like hot irons.

Zavare teleports behind Mysmus, grabbing him from behind and winks out again, taking him with them. They reappear in the air above the street, twenty stories to fall. Zavare lets go. He knows, as he falls, that Daginy is next. This is their only chance. Mysmus shoots.

Nanako loses focus and falls as her fingers burn her own hands, her neck on fire. Vadaya, half turns, falls to his knees, a purple wall appearing and shattering in the next second. Virull manages to coat all their prosthetics with water. Herlyn pulls her psi again, pulling all the heat from the water and freezing them. There’s several loud cracks.

The shot goes into Zavare’s hip and Mysmus falls. Zavare screams and teleports out. Mysmus hits the ground. Daginy watches, horrified.

There are more screams as ice presses against sensitive burns. Nanako gets back up, smashing the ice on her hands. Metal fingers fall to the ground. Vadaya frees his left arm but not his right. Herlyn stabs Virull in the head, who has no such strength. He falls, imprisoned by the ice.

Mysmus isn’t dead. He can’t move an arm for the pain, he can’t feel anything below his ribs. He lifts the hand gun and aims for the largest target.

Reinforcements arrive. Ignira pulls them all directly through the building. Casman jumps out running, an enormous psionic blast pulsing from her eyes. Herlyn is knocked off her feet. Tadani bullrushes her.

The bullet lodges in Vadaya’s shoulder. Nanako is on Mysmus faster than he can react. She knocks the gun out from his hand and breaks his neck.

Tadani tackles Herlyn into a wall, the impact leaving her woozy and breathless. Herlyn digs into them with her blades, but they simply sink in. Ignira puts her hand through them both and closes around Herlyn’s heart.

Herlyn pulls out another bottle, filled with oil and fertilizer.

“Get fucked,” she snarls, and it explodes.

It’s silent. 

Daginy curls up on the rooftop corner, clutching the concrete ledge, stifling sobs. They should have run already. Zavare called their position, but it didn’t look like they were coming back. 

Neither was Herlyn, and neither was Mysmus. They didn’t even say good bye except for the squeeze of a hand and an unspoken hope they would not need to.

Below, the imperial soldiers start to collect themselves.

“We missed one,” Vadaya says through gritted teeth and ringing ears. “The little one with the illusions.”

“Look at you shot, leh!” Nanako says, pushing down on the bullet wound, stifling the flow of purple blood. “Whole battery down. 996 is gone. We two down and you talk leftovers.”

“Where’s Zavare?” Casman says, scanning the skies.

“Medical,” Nanako says. “Shot in hip, lah. Last one probs long gone. Little bird runs.”

“Well let’s get the big guy some medical himself!” Casman exclaims. “We’re done here. Send in another battery.

Nanako moves to hoist Vadaya over her head, but he puts a hand up with a groan.

“Some dignity, please,” he says and constructs himself a stretcher. “Next time we meet it will be much more one sided.”

Daginy needs to move. More soldiers would be here soon- this was the only opportunity they’d get to get away. They can’t allow themself another moment for grief.

They force themself to uncurl and take one unsteady step, then another. Every step is easier, until they take off running, focusing on what was in front of them instead of what they leave behind.

Things had come full circle, like they always suspected they would.

They’ve been alone before. 

They can do it again. 


	3. Intake Appointment

They’ve got your scent now. It’s only a matter of time. 

You haven’t slept, you barely eaten, and as far as you know, you’re the last one alive. You never thought it would be you, but you don’t exactly have the time to do much thinking at all. 

Mysmus, Herlyn, Alnica….

What was even the point? The chances you would get away were so slim, but… as long as you were alive there would be something you could do. At the very least you were wasting imperial time. 

You pant slightly as you jog down the damp alley full of garbage, until you find yourself a fire escape you can climb on, boosting yourself up from a radiator and grabbing onto the slick metal. You’re a little shaky, from not eating, but you manage to hoist yourself up to it anyway. 

You still have the suicide pill but Herlyn made you promise not to take it unless it was your only other choice and not to have it in unless you were in the field. At one point it would have been too tempting to have it in all the time. Now, you’re probably too reluctant to put it back in. It burns a hole in your pocket, as you think about your friends, the ones who died so you could live. 

You’re just about to make it up over the railing when you hear a howl that chills you to the bone, colder than the wind in any rain. 

Horrorhounds. 

Something hits you like a fly swatted, a flash of purple panel you don’t see coming, and it knocks you to the ground. You roll with it, staggering to your feet and turn invisible. 

It’s Vadaya. You don’t need to glance backwards to know it’s him. His constructs are pretty iconic, and if he’s this close, you’re probably doomed. You don’t bother for quiet as you run down the alley way. You’re far enough as it is that sound probably doesn’t matter. 

You hear Vadaya shout something in another language and the horrorhound comes charging after you. It howls again and you choke off a whimper as the sound sinks fear into your bones, the drop dead certainty that you, without a question, are doomed. You push yourself against a wall, shaking, still hidden as the dog gets closer. You can’t out run it. Your only hope is out hiding it- if you can even. You can’t disguise your scent. 

With a shaking hand you reach for the pill. It’s in a small pouch that you have to work it out of. You watch the horror hound as it surveys the alley in front of it, its nose twitching as it sniffs you out. 

As quietly as you can, you work the pill from the pouch, hold it in your palm, and just as you’re about to take it, the dog lunges and snaps its jaws around your knee. 

There’s a crunch, and you shriek, your invisibility breaking as the horrorhound drags your leg from under you. It drags the rest of you too, and the cold pavement burns your grasping hand as you clutch tightly to the pill with the other. 

Your blood- your proper hue is all over the place now. It’s a dumb thing to be worried about through the haze of pain, but the streak of orange that trails behind you means more than just loss of your hemoanonymity. 

You come to an abrupt stop, shaking hard, staring up at a tall indigoblood, dressed in black and looking down at you with impassive eyes. 

You’ve seen him several times now, more than he’s seen you. You’ve been in various disguises and hiding places, but that wasn’t going to fool the dog.   
“Xrus, kereñt,” you hear Vadaya say, standing over you. The dog drops your leg, and you cry out again as your knee takes the jolt. 

He’s bending down, reaching for you. He wants you alive for some reason, otherwise he would have just killed you the minute you entered his range; you remember the pill in your hand and cram it into your mouth. 

Vadaya moves faster- he seizes your chin before you can bite down and forces it open, shoving you further into the pavement. The pill falls to the back of your throat and you choke, but you’re pinned firmly to the ground- you grab onto his arms and convulse, he shoves metal fingers into your mouth, and-

Indigo eyes bore into you, this time framed in white paint- Aubade presses her hand over your mouth, leaning in as she traces your other eye with silver scissors, and you can’t- you can’t move you can’t- you can’t do anything, anything at all- 

You shriek, struggling as Vadaya pulls the pill from your mouth and flicks it away. You don’t- you’re not, you’ve got- a knife, you forgot- you find it in your hands and strike with it, but the next moment Vadaya’s twists your wrist and you’ve lost that too. 

He holds you still as he forms a purple cuff around your wrist. He pulls you up and flips you over and white hot pain shoots up your leg. He wrenches your hands behind your back and cuffs them and he binds your legs together as you sob and try to gather your scattered thoughts. 

You’re running low on options, fast. You’re so scared, you’re so scared, you’re so scared. He wants you alive, it hurts it hurts. He’s going to take you, he’s going to take you back, you’re going to go back again and this time there really is no one alive who would help. Why did you wait so long to take the damn pill? They could have followed your trail to a corpse but no, you had to hold out to the last minute. 

He reinforces your injured knee with a cast- yes, he wants you alive- why? The Magpies are destroyed, they already took Alnica, who had more information on everything than you, what else could they wring from you? So much so that Vadaya was bothering to save your knee and not just tie it off? 

He hauls you up by the scruff of your neck and you violently wish you were bigger, stronger, so that you could make it harder than him. It seems effortless for him to haul you around, lay you out on a constructed gurney, fixing you down so that all you can do is shake and cry. 

Why wasn’t he just culling you? Did Aubade still want you? She couldn’t kill Herlyn, maybe she’ll just take her revenge out on you. You can’t go back, you can’t. You hope she doesn’t have that kind of pull. 

If they were going to haul you up in front of His Honorable Tyranny to make an example of you, they wouldn’t be bothered with a missing leg. No, if they wanted to keep you in fighting shape, they wanted to rehabilitate you.   
The thought makes turns the panic white hot and you struggle against your bonds. You don’t know much about the process, only that the empire will sometimes trot out some dead eyed former rebel  and claim they saw the light and came to serve.

You’d really really rather die and you doubt it’s as easy or as painless as they claim. They’re going to hurt you, and hurt you badly, turn you against everything you’ve ever cared about and there’s just about nothing you can do about it. You hear yourself whine and whimper and you know you sound pathetic.

You catch the barest hint of disappointment in his look when he glances at you and you find your voice and snarl. “What, no fanfare?” Your voice is shaking, hoarse. It’s been a few nights since you’ve had anyone to talk to. “What kind of a clown are you?” 

Vadaya pauses for a moment, and turns only ever so slightly towards you.

“As you can see,” he says. “I am not a clown.” 

“Not for lack of trying I bet,” you snap back. You feel lightheaded with adrenaline as vitriol pours from your mouth. You know him well enough to push his buttons. “But the messiahs don’t like a freak of nature, right? Who even wants you? Your useless battery?” 

You’re shaking still, but you pull Nanako’s shape out of your psi, and twist her expression into an ugly frown. 

“What a little freak, lah,” you say, in a mockery of her pattern of speech. “Such pity pity pity, guess we’ll take.” 

You don’t catch more than a glimpse of an orange eye as the constructs holding you shatter, and you hit the ground screaming, your hands free, your injured leg twisting. You don’t get a more than a second to flail, because a metal hand clamps around your throat and shoves you against a wall. 

Vadaya’s face is twisted in fury as he cuts off your breath. You gape, grabbing his arm, as you feel blood thuds with undying pressure through your ears. The edges of your vision start to blur and darken- you’re dying, you’re panicking, but it’s not fast enough, if he stops-

He drops you. You scream a short, sharp burst, as your injured leg crumples beneath you, shaking, as your traitor body sucks air in greedily. It’s all you can do to clutch your throat as sobs wrack your shoulders. You’re a pathetic wreck and you’re running out of cards. 

“You attempted to bait me into killing you,” Vadaya says, slightly out of breath, the tone just barely accusatory. It’s not fair. It’s not fair for him to act like you’re doing him wrong when- he squats down in front of you and your thoughts scatter in favor of terror, scrabbling backwards against the wall, for any kind of possible escape. 

“No no no no nononono,” you mutter as he reaches for you again, bring your arms up as a flimsy barrier, trying to fend him off from touching you. “P-please- please, please no, please-” Your throat hurts, your voice muted and hoarse, but you try to talk, make sense of your last chances. “Please just- just k-kill me.” 

He pauses for a moment, and so you push on forward, though you can’t discern what he’s thinking, not with the blank look on his face. You both know that you can’t get away anymore, not with him so close, or your leg this busted. 

“I’m t-telling you right now,” you whisper. “It’s n-not worth- worth it. Whatever b-brainw-washing bullshit isn’t g-going to work, and I’ll j-just be t-tortured to, to death or- or uselessness, and it’ll be a waste of t-time and- and resources and-” you run out of words, and you glance up at him before you look back down.

“Please,” you breath. “Please.”

There’s a pause, and for a split second, you hope. 

“That is not for either of us to decide,” he says. 

You might as well not have struggled, for all the good that it does. He’s got a longer reach, he’s stronger- you’re so outclassed. For all your struggles, it’s humiliating how easy he can shove you back down, catch your flailing arms and pin them down at your side. He fixes you down, purple straps climbing over you and pinning you to a construct board. You can’t move. He’s taking you prisoner.   
You fight against the rising panic- you can’t move but you can still talk, mostly, kind of- 

“You’re a f-freak,” you spit, but you sound weak between the stuttering and the hoarseness of your throat. “You r-really- really think you b-belong with the- the lowbloods? B-But what k-kind of a  c-clown would-” 

Your words fail as he reaches for you again. He takes the scarf from around your neck and stuffs it into your mouth, another band of purple securing it there.

Every breath you struggle to take leaves again with a muffled whimper as your chest heaves against the restraints. It’s happening again, they’re going to keep you alive to wring every little piece of use out of your body, and in the meantime you’re going to suffer, and suffer, and suffer. It’s all you can do to just clench your fists and claw at the construct board he’s set you up on, and it feels so pathetic, and you are out of options. 

“Target acquired,” Vadaya says, touching his ear. Some kind of earpiece, you guess. “Route to coordinates. Medical care is required.” A pause. “No, not for me.” 

No. No. You are not doing this. You do what you can, pulling as much of the cloth into your mouth as you can. It tastes like dirt and it dries out your mouth, but you force yourself to swallow what you can.

You strain against your bonds as you choke, trying instinctively to breathe, but the action of your breath sacs don’t bring in more air. You’re back in the water, suddenly, drowning, struggling, against zipties in a duffel bag as you sink into river. 

You’re panicking again- your body tries to cough to rid itself of the stuff in your throat, but you can barely even move your head. Vadaya’s already ignoring your struggles, maybe you’ll get past the point of no return before anyone can notice.

“Animal bite and fractures on the left leg,” Vadaya says. “Possible complications from strangulation.”

He looks towards you, and frowns. You try and hold still, as your lungs try desperately for air.

“Target isn’t breathing,” he says, reaching for you again and the band around your mouth disappears. 

He takes the scarf and pulls- you bite down and he wrenches your jaw back open- and slowly, painfully, the cloth eases back up out of your throat. You gasp, your traitor lungs inflating again, like you actually want to live. For all your distaste for killing, you know being kept alive would be worse.

“They swallowed their scarf,” Vadaya says. “I removed the blockage and they are breathing again. Medical assistance is needed immediately.”

You try to bite your tongue, but he’s watching out for it now and grabs your chin, keeping your mouth open as he constructs a bit between your teeth you can’t bite through.

He stares down at you, his hand just barely hovering over your throat you can feel every breath brush against it, and it’s not long before you can hear the sound of sirens.

You can’t help sobbing, excruciatingly aware of the inexorable approach of the empire. You want to scream, but what use would that be? All you can do is wait, stifle your panic, wait for an opening for you to get yourself dead.   
It’s your last hope.   
  


—-  
  


You don’t pull it off. 

You’re under watch constantly, and every attempt you make at doing something is promptly stopped and fixed. 

They don’t have a true mind controller, who would have reached into your pan and started rearranging, but the ones they do have make you eat and drink, walk around, keep you from starving yourself or getting bed sores. When they let you wake up, mind readers monitor your thoughts for any more suicide attempts. They run tests and measurements and surgeries, for who knows what- you can only tell by noticing what’s sore when you wake up and they’re not about to explain anything to you.

And of course, they torture you, until you can’t hear the name of what you were without panicking, but they’re careful not to leave marks and they’re careful not to go too far. It’s a five star stay compared to the last time you enjoyed the empire’s hospitality, but you wouldn’t want to make a return visit, you know, provided you ever leave again.

You’re not sure when you gave up, but you think you did, in the end. Your attempts trickle to a stop. You’re out of ideas. You’re out of strength. You’re so tired. You just want things to end. You’re just an absentee resident in your own body and you just want things to end.

Someone new comes into the room where they’re keeping you, a tall indigo with slicked back hair and white paint pulled down his face like lightning. A subbjugulator. He shakes hands with the cerulean mindreader whose been sitting in the corner and they exchange a few words before the clown sits next to your bed and looks at you. 

You lean away. You don’t meet his eyes. 

“Come on now, dear,” he murmurs. “Look at me now.” 

You still don’t obey, and so he sighs and takes your face in both his cold, clammy hands and touches his greasy forehead to yours. You tense, pulling ever so slightly at the padded cuffs that keep you restrained. You can’t help but feel like prey, on the verge of being devoured. You close your eyes, the most resistance you can muster. 

“You’ve had a rough time of it, haven’t you, love?” he says, and you can see his eyes begin to flash from behind the thin shield of your eyelids. You gasp quietly, as his fingers tightens on your face, as he sinks psychic needles into your pan. “Don’t worry about it now. This is where you forget.”

The pain in your head gets worse, and worse, and worse, and then everything fades and fades and fades and for a brief bewildering moment-

You don’t know who you are.

You black out.


	4. First Meetin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obviously a thread

The docterrorist didn’t explain anything.

It’s not his role, he said. And we all have our place. Well, he did explain that your left knee had been bitten and you shouldn’t put weight on it, considering the bone had been fractured, but you didn’t think that really explained the hazy blank void that hung in the place of anything that had happened before you woke up in the small hospital room. You don’t even remember your name.

You did check yourself over, trying to remember anything that has happened to you ever. Besides your knee, you sure do have an awful lot of scars. Tracing over them is like rereading an old, nearly forgotten book, reliving an old plot just out of your memory. You can’t remember how you got any of these. The palms of your hands are burnt, old scars that fade into the rest of your skin. Two long jagged gashes run down your left arm and a burn covers your right. There’s a weird crooked symbol carved into the part with the burn and scars around your wrists. A tattoo you can’t remember, another abstract symbol you can’t remember is inked on the inside of your left wrist. You’ve sure been burned a lot. Your unwrapped knee is marked with an old scar too, as well as a chunk at the back of your left calf. There’s several circular burn scars on your abdomen. Your legs are just about peppered with spotted, newer burns. You also have a ton of cuts and slashes, mostly on your arms, smaller ones on your hands, and you figure whatever it is that you were, you were doing something dangerous.

Were you in danger now? You don’t know. You’re alone now, you’ve seemed to have gotten some medical care, but you can feel a tremor in your shoulders, and your pumper flutters. You hobbled out of the platform once and tried the door to the room but it was locked, and so you hobbled back before anyone could notice you were missing. You don’t have a choice. You draw the hospital sheets around you and hunker down and wait for someone to tell you what’s going on.

 

> ‘Only the dead have seen the end of war.’
> 
> You had always admired the words of long-dead trolls. They had been your role-models, growing up a lonely wriggler. Mentors that filled in the gaps that your instructors had left, balms for a child that was outcast from his peers. You knew how their stories ended, the great things they accomplished during their lives. When you felt unsure, you could reach for their knowledge still to steady yourself. And at times their quotes rose from the depths of your mind unbidden, whispering through your skull.
> 
> You had fought in many battles in this never-ending war. You were proud of being a soldier, your duty as an imperial weapon. You always did your best in every mission handed down to you, put aside your personal feelings to do what the Empire said needed doing. Even if you didn’t always agree with them. Daginy should have been able to see the end of this war. Instead, they would be waking up on the other side.
> 
> You understood the temptation of them. They were extraordinarily bright- of course they were, you knew better than anyone. It had been you that had spearheaded the campaign in to destroying this Magpie resistance, caging the little birds as you came across them. Trickling your way through their ranks, working your way up towards the trolls that actually mattered. How many of Daginy’s companions had you condemned to death? How many had you executed yourself in your quest to squash out another rebel operation?
> 
> That they had fought you so well through it all was admirable, especially given their age. They’d learned their skills on their own, you were sure. How much more effective would they be if given the right tools to flourish? But you felt you had gotten a feel on the younger troll now, after spending so long chasing after them. Something in your thinkpan continued to voice that this was all a bad idea. A troll who fought that hard to keep resisting at every turn would chafe under the collar of the Empire.
> 
> But the decision had been out of your hands. You are still just a soldier, not one of the decision makers. So you squashed down that thread of unease for now, and you focused on the mission.
> 
> The grey folder in front of you was so worn by now, picked up so long ago as a gut instinct. Back then Daginy had been an unknown face in a chat room, only wishing to help some troll who couldn’t help herself. Now, it was full to bursting with every scrap that you had ever gotten on the troll you had hunted. You had hoped your diligence would be rewarded with the chance to close the file and be done with it. And in a way, you were. If everything went the way the Empire wanted, this Daginy was dead now.
> 
> You closed the folder and tucked it away before you rose, centering yourself. It was a sobering walk to the medical bay where your newest mission was being housed, recovering after their operations. The docterrorist in charge of them was easy enough to spot by now, you had come to see them enough times by now. The patient was awake, curious. That was to be expected, just part of the process even not factoring in Daginy’s innate desire to know. But they were on the mend, as quickly as their lowblooded body could handle at least. They were young, and they had been through so much already. They would recover.
> 
> You nodded your understanding and left the docterrorist, searching out the room you had passed by before. You slid your keycard through the lock, waiting for the beep of affirmation before you turned the knob. You made the move slow, deliberate- a warning to the troll waiting inside. A courtesy you hoped made them less immediately defensive as you opened the door and stepped inside.

Your eyes flicker to the door as soon as you hear a little beep and as the doorknob starts turning, you clutch your blankets tighter.

You’re tense, freezing, barely breathing, as though you hope when the door opens the troll behind it won’t see you.

It’s funny, how you’re so afraid. You were just wishing for someone to come explain things to you, but just when it looks like it’s about to happen, you’re absolutely terrified.

The troll that walks in is an adult. Tall. He turns and looks straight at you, so your whole cloven foot sprintbeast in headlights act clearly isn’t working. Something about him seems familiar to you, and you immediately blurt out, “Do I know you?”

Mistake. Your eyes dart for the door, a moot point, since he’s standing in front of it and you can’t walk anyway.

Mistake? What mistake? If he looks familiar, maybe he does know you, and he can tell you what landed you here. You still can’t get rid of the feeling you’ve done something wrong though, and you curl up a little tighter. 

“I mean…” you say, half worried you’re putting your foot in your mouth. “Do you know me? Am I making sense?” 

You force an awkward chuckle, pulling your blanket tighter, waiting for the almost familiar troll to answer or lash out at you.

> They’re so small like this. They were always small, the logical part of you had to point out. That sort of lowblood small that usually meant malnutrition, bodies only barely given enough nutrition to keep going. But before they were a bit bigger than life, at least in your eyes.
> 
> But then maybe that was just the reputation they had built up over the course of your chase. It was simply so hard to believe such a wisp of a troll was so much work. They hadn’t been very big when they had been bleeding at your feet, or when they had shrieked when you had ripped their little fail-safe pill from their mouth.
> 
> But the fear had been different then. They had been a wild animal, fighting against the end that they could see looming in front of them. The knowledge of what was coming. Now it was the fear of the unknown, a softer sort of panic. One much easier to control.
> 
> Still, you did not miss the way they looked past you, towards the door. Any animal pushed in to fear could try to run. You made sure the door was locked again before you moved closer.
> 
> “Yes, I know you. And you know me.” Your voice was still mild, your attempt at being soothing. This was not your arena- usually it was a troll like Euefim that would see to the newly rehabilitated, so much better with honeyed words to ease the confusion. But Daginy was your responsibility, they had been ever sense you had caught their trail.
> 
> There was no chair in the room, but it didn’t take you much more than a thought to construct one, sitting in hopes that it might make you less intimidating. Wrapped up in the blanket, they looked younger than the age you had found while diving through their information.
> 
> “I am Vadaya. And you are Daginy.” You had weighed the words out before, taken their name in to careful consideration. Some preferred giving a rehabilitated troll a new identity completely, but you saw no need for such a thing. A single tie to their past would not hurt them.

You don’t miss the soft click of the door’s lock and you swallow, your anxiety racketing up a notch at the loss of an escape, which is still a moot point, because you still can’t walk. 

“Daginy,” you say, testing the name. It feels familiar to you, even if it’s a little apprehensive. An anchor of identity in the whirling void of your brain (anchor, that feels somewhat important to you too) “Vadaya.” 

He  _is_  here to tell you what’s going on, you think, at least. You hope. The purple chair that materializes surprises you, then doesn’t. That seems familiar too, like you knew he could do that. Even though as a general rule of thumb, purplebloods didn’t have psi. 

Somewhere in your head, you note that his psi is still a weapon, and you are absolutely at his mercy, but he  _is_  sitting down now, which makes you feel like he’s less likely to attack you. You think that’s probably the point. 

You bite your lip before chancing another question. 

“Why… why can’t I remember anything?” you say, somewhat hesitantly. “What happened?” 

> It’s odd, watching them try out their name like this. Like trying on a shirt long-forgotten in your closet and being surprised at how well it fit. But you think having that knowledge helps them somewhat. Your name is unsurprisingly next, but you don’t think they remember much of their feelings about you.
> 
> They’re biting at themselves, but you let the nervous tic slip by you as you do your best to look nonthreatening. Not that it was a simple task for you- you remained highblooded, your strength obvious in your build and the machinery you wore. But you did your best to try and mollify the obvious worry they had over you. You could only hope your sympathy worked.
> 
> The question was an expected one, but you still paused. Rehabilitation was a complicated technique, one that the Torrents were tasked with. They were the psychics after all, trained to twist and bend a troll to their will. But they wanted comfort now. Comfort you were rather unfamiliar with giving.
> 
> “You are in a rehabilitation program, Daginy. It is a complicated matter, but your memories of the past are gone. For now, it is best to focus on your recovery. Is your leg giving you any pain?” You tilt your head slightly, questioning. Trying to guide them towards a subject you hoped would be easier for them. 

“Rehabilitation?” you ask. “For my leg? My memories?” 

You still don’t think a leg injury would result in memory loss, but you’re not a docterrorist. At least you don’t think you are. You shift your leg, and shake your head. 

“It’s not hurting now,” you say, looking down, then back up at him. Vadaya’s been answering all your questions rather patiently, you think it should be okay to ask more. “Do you know when I can leave? What bit me?”

There’s so much you  _don’t_ know, and honestly you’re a little impatient at how slowly you’re getting your answers. 

“What happened to my memories? What am I recovering to? I mean like, uh-” you fiddle with your hands. Did you slap your hands on a stove top or something? “-what did I used to be?” 

You pause your rapid fire questions, to glance up at Vadaya and make sure you’re not overstepping your bounds. You’re more comfortable now, at least, a little less afraid. 

> As the fear fades, the questions start to pour out. You should see it as a good sign, that they at least trusted you enough to ask without fear of your mood souring. But they didn’t have the burden of their past weighing them down either. You had heard the reports of the damage on their body, seen their missing eye and burnt up palms for yourself. So many injuries, and trauma for every one you were sure.
> 
> “I do not know when you will be cleared to leave the medical bay, Daginy. You were bit by a lusus that was pursuing you.” You decided it was best to tackle their questions one at a time, watching them as you spoke.
> 
> “You used to be a rebel. A traitor against the Empire. You are being rehabilitated for it, and part of that process was forgetting your previous ties to such activities. When you are healed, you will be released to the care of my program. Do you remember the name Scimitar at all?”
> 
> It was a test, to see how well Daginy took all this information. You knew that the Torrents did their best to prepare them for this, but you never truly trusted anything you couldn’t see for yourself.
> 
> Especially something like this.

You blink in surprise.  

“A rebel?” you ask hesitantly. “I used to be a traitor?” The thought leaves a bad taste in your mouth and you stare at the palms of your hands. What did you  _do?_

_“_ I don’t-” you start to say. “Did I do bad things? Did I hurt people?” The phrasing sounds childish in your head, but that’s what you want to know. You don’t think you’re a bad person- at least you feel like you’re trying to be good, but if you were wrong, then they were fixing you. 

You were getting a second chance. You shake your head slowly. 

“Scimitar,” you say, trying to wrack your empty memory for a trace of the word. “It’s familiar? I don’t– I don’t remember.” 

You close your eyes, and put your hand to your head. Nothing. It’s a little distressing how little you do remember, and so you ask more questions. 

“What’s Scimitar?” you ask. “I’m supposed to work with you now?” 

> They seem upset by their past- good. You didn’t always understand just what it was that the Torrents did with a troll’s mind, but you were pleased that that part of the re-coding seemed to have stuck with them. A positive step in the right direction.
> 
> “As a rebel, yes. You did bad things. Some of those things that you did got other trolls culled. But you are not a bad troll, Daginy. If you were, you would not have been rehabilitated. In your past, you made poor decisions. But that is behind you now.” You hoped you were soothing them, but it quickly became apparent that you were treading on overwhelming Daginy.
> 
> “It is alright Daginy. Do not try to force yourself to remember things, reeducation will be part of the process.” You didn’t like that moment of strain on them. You had to remember that they were in a delicate state right now, that you didn’t want to shatter them.
> 
> “Scimitar is a branch of the Imperial Psionics Corps. We work to hunt down rebels and others who would oppose the Empire, and we stop them. And, at times, we save them. As we did you.” For a moment, you try to think of how they would have reacted before to such a statement. But you’re quick to sweep the thought away.
> 
> Their past was behind them now, and they were better off for it. You would focus on who they were now. And be on the watch for any hints of their old self resurfacing.

You nod slowly. 

The fact he’s saying your name over and over makes you feel.. off. You can’t put a finger on why, but even though it feels familiar, it feels like it doesn’t quite belong to you.  

It’s a lot to process. You don’t say anything as you try just to figure out what he’s telling you now. 

You, a Scimitar. A rebel hunter. Something about that rubs you the wrong way. Something doesn’t quite match up. You don’t belong. You put your head in your hands and rub your temples, trying to think about what it was. 

What if you don’t want to be a Scimitar? What if you wanted to sit down and read for the rest of your life? Or teach people, or do anything else really. 

But you do suppose you have to make up for what you’ve done, even if you can’t remember it. And Scimitars help people. Maybe you could do for someone else what Vadaya’s done for you. 

“Okay,” you say still massaging your temples. “Okay. I think.. I need some time to get used to this?” 

> You have to remind yourself again that they’re not in a stable place just yet. You should have been gentler on them, let them digest all this information more slowly. For a moment, you wonder if you should worry about them when Daginy puts their head in their hands. But they aren’t crying, or hyperventilating.
> 
> Or shrieking. They were just taking in your words, trying to make sense of it all. Of course they were, they had such a small grasp on what was happening to them. You had admired parts of them before- their cunning, their resolve to keep going. You doubted that that part of them had disappeared with their memories. They would be alright.
> 
> “Take your time, I know it is a lot to take in right now. But you were curious, and I thought you deserved to have your questions answered. Rather than make you sit here festering with them.” You calculated their position and your own, the way they continued to rub at their temples like it would help them put everything together more clearly.
> 
> The last time you had touched them, it had been to haul them here. Ignoring their begging for death, anything but  _this._ But there were no tears now. And the confusion would be smoothed away, bit by bit. You reached forward with your non-gauntlet arms, hand light as it landed on their shoulder.
> 
> “Are you hungry, Daginy? It is important that you eat, if you are to recover.” It seemed a safer topic to derail to as you watched them, remembering how they had tried to fight you when they had been captured. Just because you were trying to comfort them didn’t mean you could let your guard down.

Your eyes flick up to watch him, as he leans forward, hand outstretched. You stare, as he lets it land on your shoulder, lightly, ever so lightly. 

You let your eyes flick towards Vadaya’s face. He seems calm, serious, earnest. Not likely to hurt you now. It’d make no sense for him to do that, even as you know how fast a gentle touch can change to a painful one. How do you know that?

You miss most of what he says, so distracted you are by his hand. 

“What?” you ask, before you quite catch onto what he’s talking about. “Food? I- uh-” 

You think about eating, and yeah, your stomach is starting to stick together, but it’s not acutely uncomfortable yet. You can power through- but he’s not asking you if you can power through. He’s asking you to eat if you’re hungry so you can recover properly. 

You nod slowly. 

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m hungry.” You’re strangely apprehensive. Is he going to bring you somewhere you can eat? Is he going to call for food? What if you don’t like it. You don’t remember anything about what you like and don’t like to eat.`

> They watch you, your hand. You wonder for a moment if they’ll fight, but they don’t. Good. Was it you, or would they sit still for anyone now? You hadn’t heard any accounts of them giving the medicullers any grief, another hopeful sign. After all, if they did advance past basic training they’d wind up back here again to get their augments and stabilizers.
> 
> Hopefully by then a heartier diet will have put some more meat on their bones. The rebel life had certainly not been a kind one to them.
> 
> They take a moment to recover your question, but you allow the fumble. They have every right to be distracted right now after all, and you were here to be sympathetic. Besides, they were hungry.
> 
> “Good. Medical bay food is not always the most flavorful of meals, but we will have to see what is on the menu for the night.” You had a feeling that whatever was being served was better than Daginy’s usual diet anyways. Especially when they were being hunted.
> 
> You dropped your hand from their shoulder to reach for the call button attached to their bed, settling back in your constructed chair to wait. Not that it took long for one of the medicull staff to appear, rightfully wary about opening the door. Never knew when a troll might decide to run, after all.
> 
> “Our patient here is hungry, miss.” You tilted your head at the girl, watching her leave as quickly as she came in to fulfill your request. Only then did you focus on Daginy again.
> 
> “You are doing well. I know it may not feel like it now, but you are. You will see.”

He takes his hand off your shoulder and you immediately can breathe easier. You nod slowly, still processing everything. You were getting more used to the idea of … being in Scimitar. There was still something about it that set you on edge, but you guess some part of you is still used to being a rebel.

Bluh. Even thinking the word sets you on edge.

The medical staff appears and disappears with the promise of food and you nod as Vadaya speaks. You’re kind of glad he’s staying with you. Being alone with your thoughts seems like an overwhelming prospect, even though you think you might need that soon. 

“It’s only been a day,” you say, fiddling with your blankets. “I can’t be that far along. Have you saved others like me?”

You wonder if there will be others like you. You’re sure there are.

> You can’t help but note how they seem to recover themselves once your hand was removed. You can’t be disappointed- it wasn’t like they had made a decision to hold on to any remnants of their past. Hangups after a life likes theirs was to be expected. You’d just have to figure out a way to help them deal with them, eventually. Another job to focus on, down the road.
> 
> They say it’s only been a day, but you don’t correct them. No need to mention how long they were under the hands of the Torrents, being rebuilt. You hadn’t asked for details on the process, only for updates to make sure they had not destroyed Daginy.
> 
> It would have been a waste to bring them so far, made them endure that, only to have it break them completely.
> 
> “No, you are at the very beginning of your journey. But you have made the first steps, and that is good,” you watch them as they fiddle, wondering if that’s another innate trait. “I myself? No, but I know how the process works. But there are other reformed rebels and criminals in the IPC. I am sure when you are better, you will be able to meet them.” It might help soothe them, to know they weren’t alone. A reward for them, as they recovered.

You nod, comforted by the idea that you aren’t alone. 

“I’d like that,” you say. Maybe the other ones have as many scars as you do. Other rebels should know about the kinds of things that happened that could give you so many of them. 

Vadaya might know. 

“Do you know where I got so many scars?” you ask him. You cast him a glance before you look down at your hands again. It’s hard to forget about them, with as much as you do with your hands. You’ve noticed too, that your nerves are kind of wonky there. Sometimes the scars are hyper sensitive to the touch, sometimes you can’t feel anything there at all. 

> They seem to enjoy the thought of meeting others, and you’re already trying to figure out who you would try to introduce them to first. Dhraji was close to their age at least, and had always seemed friendly. You just had to worry about if his exuberance might be a bit much for Daginy.
> 
> You find yourself thinking back to the company they had kept before though, and you reconsider. You force your thoughts away before you can think too hard on all that yellow blood. Besides, your patient was speaking again.
> 
> “I do not know their origins, I am afraid. You had a very dangerous life as a rebel I can only assume. It is not an easy life.” Not a complete lie- most of their scars were a total mystery to you. The click of the door unlocking is a welcome distraction, and you turned your attention to the assistant as she brought a covered tray over to the bed.
> 
> It took her no time at all to swing the bedside table in closer, setting the tray down and pulling off the cover for Daginy before she departed again. A glance showed an acceptable enough meal to you- some sort of chicken pasta, a roll, some mixture of vegetables, a jug of juice and a cup of pudding for a dessert. Now you just had to hope Daginy would eat some of it.

You look at your hands, running one hand over the other, as you wonder what in the world happened to you. 

You start when the door clicks open again and the assistant mediculler comes to bring in your food, and disappears just as quickly. 

Your stomach growls- it certainly smells good- but you hesitate at food being deposited into your lap. You were being silly. If it was poisoned or drugged, they certainly didn’t need to sneak it in through your food. You were surrounded by medical equipment in a locked room. If they needed to get something in you, they could just make you. 

“Do you want any?” you ask Vadaya. You pick up a fork and poke at the pasta. Without thinking you palm the roll and stash it in your blanket for later. There was no way you could eat all this in one go. You can eat the most the pasta, get some vegetables in you, and stash the pudding cup too. Calories on the go. 

You’re not on the go. 

You glance back over at Vadaya. Maybe the reason he was still here  _was_  because he needed to make sure you ate what ever it was in the food. What could they put in there that they couldn’t just stick an IV into you for? 

Maybe you just won’t touch the juice. The flavor would cover most drugs with a taste, and liquids were easier to poison anyway. You take a forkful of vegetables and chew on the corners. You also eye the pasta. It had a cream sauce. You really never knew. 

> They offer to share their meal, casual as can be, and your first instinct is to turn it down. The food was for them to eat after all, not you. But it’s obvious by watching them that this was another engrained habit that had stuck with them, food issues.
> 
> You aren’t terribly surprised when the roll went missing without ever meeting their lips. Hoarding was something most who had gone so long without did, after all. As long as they ate it later and did not leave it to go to waste, you would leave it. Pointing out the issue wouldn’t help them any.
> 
> But the way they poked at the pasta, looking their meal over like they thought there was a viper hiding among the noodles, well. That was more concerning. The way they chose the vegetables- bland, but even still so carefully nibbled at. Like they were worried about something in them.
> 
> You were tempted to point out that they didn’t need to drug their food if they saw the need to administer anything. But no, that wouldn’t make them feel any better. Their trust wasn’t so easily earned even now, but you could do your best to assure them that their current meal was safe.
> 
> “Why not. Thank you, Daginy. How about I try the pasta?” It had the most calories in it, as well as protein. If they saw you eat it, perhaps they would deem it safe to consume as well.

You push over the tray of pasta over to Vadaya. He can construct his own fork, you’re pretty sure.  

“No problem,” you say. 

You eat the forkful of vegetables, feeling a little braver about eating them. The fact he’s accepted your offer has gone a long way to assuaging your anxieties about the food, even without him eating it. 

It occurs to you that this is a little unreasonable– it did occur to you that any drug they wanted to give you– well they didn’t need to put it in your food. Still, knowing that doesn’t make you all that much less nervous. You wonder if you’ve been poisoned before, and what had happened. 

You grab the pudding and slip it next to the roll under the covers. They’ll make a good meal later. 

“Do you want some vegetables as well?” You take another bite, and offer him the plate. 

> You aren’t surprised when Daginy accepts your offer, tray nudged your way. They were right about you constructing your own fork, reaching slowly forward to stab in to a noodle to bring to your lips.
> 
> It’s rather bland, in the way that medical bay food tended to be. But bland was good, you were sure too much richness would hurt the other troll now more than it would help them.
> 
> At least they seemed more willing to eat now, so you let your fork fade and settled back in your chair. You noted the pudding making its disappearance, but once more you stayed quiet. Hopefully Daginy would learn that their nights of lean eating had ended soon enough.
> 
> “I am fine, but thank you for the offer. It is more important that you eat as much as you can handle. You need the energy to heal, after all.” You decided to focus on that, not the fact that they were so underfed. Being on the run from you had obviously left little time for them to worry about  _food._

Vadaya only takes a bit of the pasta and you think he probably caught onto the fact you were using him to test- just in case. You feel a twinge of guilt for using him like that, but you have to shrug it off. There’s no harm done at least.

He’s clearly not in want for food either, so you guess there’s no point in sharing what you have.

You nod and eat quickly. You even chance a swig of the juice. You’re hungrier than you realized even, but you fill up pretty quickly too.

You leave half the vegetables and bit of the pasta left over, when you push the tray to the side. There was no sense in over eating- no use risking all the food you had on nausea.

You pause. Do you have a nausea problem? You feel fine now. You could probably even save the rest of your food for later.

It’s honestly so confusing not to have your memories. You don’t understand why your trains of thought lead where they do. Maybe you’ll find you do have a nausea problem, or that thought was just a random non sequitor.

You press your hands to your eye- eyes (what) and rub them as you shake your head, too many thoughts misaligning.

“Um,” you say, trying to distract yourself. “What happens next?”

> At least once they’ve had their worries soothed they don’t take much time in digging in. They don’t clear their plate, but you weren’t expecting them to. That was fine. They had the roll and the pudding if they got hungry again, after all.
> 
> You thought things were improving, but when Daginy started rubbing at their eyes you couldn’t help but frown. But it wasn’t their fault they were lost now, was it? It was your duty to help them make sense of their new confusing world. And you had every intention on doing that.
> 
> They reached out to you though, seeking some sort of shelter from the gaps in their mind. You doubted there was anything that any Torrent could do for their confusion, but you could handle this.
> 
> “What happens next is that you will rest. Heal. I am afraid there is not much for you to do while your leg is damaged, but. I can give you books to read. There is much for you to learn about your new duty.” The training material for rehabiliated trolls was something you had browsed through before. With Daginy’s intelligence, you doubted they would have much trouble with it.
> 
> “As for other things. You can always use the call button for a mediculler. I will visit you often, if that is alright with you.” Even if it wasn’t alright, but the illusion of choice was easy enough to offer.

You nod at his words. They make sense but they don’t exactly snap your world back into perfect order. You guess that’ll only happen with time.

“I’d like that,” you say. “The books and the visits.”

You need something to fill the gaps in your pan, desperately. You feel the edge of panic when you think about what you’re missing and the sooner you can distract yourself from that loss the better. You want something to anchor you. You feel insubstantial enough to float away on a breath.

The docterrorist ignores you when you ask questions. Vadaya’s the closest thing you’ve got to a friend. You twiddle with the blankets in your hands.

“You’re going to be my commander, right?” You ask. “Can I get around on crutches at least?” You glance around the medbay. “Where are we exactly?”

There’s so much you don’t know. There’s so much you don’t know about yourself.

“Do I have a nausea problem?” you ask, then bite your lip. You don’t know if it crosses some kind of boundary, asking about the things that are happening in your own head. You’ve got some bad feeling about it, but you don’t know.

> You tilt your head at their acceptance of your offerings, feeling a bit of pleasure when they didn’t seem to hesitate over the decision. “Alright, then. Next time I visit, I will bring you some things to occupy yourself with. And I will see if the mediculler can supply some material before then.”
> 
> They’re back to playing with the blankets, but at least they’re leaving their head alone. You disliked the way they pressed at their head, or their eyes. You had worried about giving them the replacement eye to begin with, had your concerns that their body would still remember overcompensating for the loss. But they seemed to be adjusting well enough. Some bumps on the road were expected.
> 
> “I will be, yes. And you will be able to get around with crutches. You will have to be accompanied by someone when you go outside of here, however.” For their safety as well as the Bureaus- you didn’t want to leave a troll with no memories on their own.
> 
> “We are in the medical bay of the Dragoshka Imperial Psionic Corps bureau.” You didn’t mind answering their questions, but the last made you pause. You knew there would be these phantom memories, things that both you and Daginy would have to work through. But they looked uncertain about it. Perhaps guilty?
> 
> “I am unaware of any nausea issues, Daginy. But if you do, we will watch for them and make sure that they do not inconvenience you.” Nausea? It was something you’d have to look in to. Or simply another trigger of their traumatic existence. You were sure it could be handled.
> 
> “Are you feeling nauseous now?”

You shake you head.

“No,” you say. “I’m okay. I just…” you trail off as you try and find the words. “I just thought I should be careful of nausea and I’m not sure why.”

“Can we go around now?” You ask. You’re not sure how much you want to hang around this room. “If this is the Imperial Psion Corp, I’m a psion right?”

That sounded right, but you can’t remember what you can do either. You want to try something but you’re not sure if you’re going to break something if you do (though that doesn’t quite sound right).

You hold out your hand and look at Vadaya. They wanted this part of you, if they were putting you here. This was something they weren’t going to take away.

> “Perhaps it is just your body trying to make sure you do not eat too much. You probably did not get the opportunity to in your past. If so, you will overcome it.” You doubt it was that simple, but your other theories weren’t something you were going to share.
> 
> You consider their request, how long you had already been here. But you doubted they would have the energy to walk for too long yet, a quick trip out might help build trust. “If you are up to it, yes. Go ahead and push the call button and we will get you some crutches.”
> 
> You quieted at their question, thinking of what you’ve seen of their psionics. Or at times, what you probably didn’t see. Quite the valuable skill to have in their previous life, but more prized now. They’d be quite the force with some training. That practical part of your mind pointed out that they’d be formidable if they turned back to that old life, but you pushed it aside.
> 
> “Yes, you are Daginy. Can you feel your psionics? Try to do something. Do not worry, you will not harm anything.” You gave them an encouraging look, leaning back to watch. Maybe they’d need some more help with their psionics, but you felt it would be natural.

You tilt your head and consider it.

“I think I feel something?” You can sense a certain strain that you think might be your psi. You flex that part of your mind and ripple passes through your vision. You’re not sure if you just made it up so you do it again.

It’s familiar to you, and you feel it out more. If you could put it to words, it feels like a tapestry- one you can reach out and shape- change the tension, pluck and hold the strings. You focus and pull, and the white sheets you’re using fade to black.

“Huh,” you say. Light manipulation.

There’s a small strain in the tapestry, one that you’ve been holding unconsciously this entire time.

You release it and suddenly the world falls out of focus. You grab the bed suddenly, trying to steady yourself.

“What?” you breathe, half the world is in focus, the other half is very much out, and they’ve mixed together so much you can’t tell what’s what. You turn to look towards Vadaya and regret it immediately.

“Okay now I’m nauseous,” you mutter, clapping your hands over your eyes for relief. You lean over the bed and dry heave, but you manage to keep down the food you just ate.

One of your eyes works better than the other, you think. You’ve been unconsciously been using your powers to compensate.

> The rediscovery of their psionics goes well enough, at first. You watch them bleed the white from the sheets with an encouraging nod of your head, letting the beginnings of a smile form on your face. 
> 
> You wouldn’t need to guide them through it it appeared, which you appreciated. You had a feeling it would have been much like going from a bicycle to a unicycle, trying to figure out just how their psionics worked compared to your own. Sure, they were both wheeled devices one could use to get around, but it was different. For you it was just a thought, an image you wished to bring to life. Their own probably worked on different concepts.
> 
> You were about to praise them when they lurched, and you instinctively leaned forward to make sure they did not fall from the bed as they heaved over the side of it. The source isn’t too hard to figre out, the way they were pressing their hands over their eyes. Your earlier assessment of them adjusting well was obviously flawed.
> 
> “Here, Daginy. Keep your eyes closed and just lay back. The nausea should fade, just give yourself some time.” You would have to have a talk with the doctorterrorist, try to figure out a way to fix this.
> 
> You should have known that you couldn’t stick an eye in a troll and just expect their thinkpan to accept it. The memories were gone, but their thinkpan was still used to compensating for the loss.

You keep your eyes covered until your breathing evens out and you lean back into the sleeping platform. You uncover your right eye, the good one, and look over at Vadaya.

His brow furrows and he’s halfway out of his seat. You feel vaguely gratified by his concern.

You move your hand over to your right eye, peer out with your left. The world is properly blurry there. Vadaya’s features blur into each other, the vague shapes of his face only making sense in concert.

You focus again, pulling threads in front of your eye until the world comes back into focus.

“I’m nearsighted,” you say. “Only in my left eye? I’ve been using my powers to compensate for it.”

You take your hands off your face again, testing your vision again. You seem to work in concert, though now you’re paying attention, something still feels a little off. Still, you feel a little relieved. That’s one mystery you’ve solved about yourself.

> You watch them as they lay back, watch their breathing as it mellows back out in something more even. You only sit back firmly in your seat when they crack open an eye to look at you, their new eye.
> 
> You wonder how they will feel, when they look in the mirror for the first time. How long had they been working with the loss of an eye? You knew you had it in your file, but the knowledge didn’t come to you immediately.
> 
> They switch eyes, experimenting, and it makes sense when they speak. Nearsighted was a complication, but they seemed able to handle it well with their psionics. A piece of knowledge you felt-  _something_ about, to have not seen it.
> 
> “I see. It makes sense, that your psionics would unconsciously make up for the discrepancy in your eyes. Has your nausea faded? I can get you a glass of water, if you would like.” There’s a pitcher and some glasses near the bed, though you doubt the water is still cold. Still, you hoped the offer would at least help distract them from this new breakthrough.

You savor it. Knowing something about yourself seems like such a luxury. You’re nearsighted in one eye and you’ve been compensating with psionics.

You manipulate light. The thought makes you giddy.

Some part of you can’t believe people just know stuff about themselves. Part of you knows this is just your punishment for your past crimes that you can’t remember.

You don’t dwell on it.

You shake your head. “It’s a lot better now,” you say. Now that you’re correcting for your vision, looking around doesn’t make your head spin, and you push yourself back to more of a sitting position.

“It’s only when I can’t see properly,” you say. “I’m fine for water. Can we still go walk around?”

You want to know as much as you can, and your recent discovery is invigorating.

You push your blankets off. You’ve got a cast on your left knee which leaves you hobbling, but at least it doesn’t hurt. You glance back at Vadaya, seeing how you haven’t waited for a yes, and he has to be your escort.

> They bounce back quickly from the shock of their discovery at least. You decide after a moment that that’s good, it means they aren’t dwelling on the information and the fact that they didn’t remember such a vital part of themselves.
> 
> Instead they seem rejuvenated by the information, even more eager to get out of their bed and explore. You worried for a moment that it was too much for them when they were dry heaving just a few minutes before, but. They seemed so earnest about it.
> 
> It seemed cruel to refuse them.
> 
> “Of course, Daginy. But you will need crutches.” You stand when they glance at you, waiting for your confirmation. Your chair faded, and it only took a moment for you to construct a pair of crutches in their wake.
> 
> A moment of gazing at them, and you shortened the constructs to something more suited for their size before you offered them to Daginy.
> 
> “Here you are. Until we can get you a more proper set. I am sure an assistant can point us in the right direction. It will be a good first walk for you, I believe. We don’t want to tire you out too much your first night up, after all.”

You relax slightly when he gives you permission. The relief is slightly confusing, but not for any reasons you can remember. You’re starting to get used to the feeling though.

You scooch to the edge of the bed and reach for the constructs, pulling yourself off the platform and landing on your good leg. You pull the crutches under your arms and look up at Vadaya. He’s… a lot taller from here.

You hobble your way to the door and cast another glance back at Vadaya. “Okay,” you say. “We don’t go far.”

There’s something in your body that feels achey, anyway. You’re not entirely sure, but there’s still some pain in your shoulders that you’re not really sure where it came from.

> You stay close as they get to their feet, just in case. It wasn’t like they had been up in a while, (as far as you knew, at least,) and you wanted to make sure they didn’t injure themselves further.
> 
> Thankfully, your fears were unfounded. They make their way off the bed and you’re left staring down at them for a moment, once more faced with just how small and unassuming they were.
> 
> But the moment passed quickly, they weren’t about to let crutches slow them down from their escape. You follow after them, reaching for the keycard to unlock the door again with a quick swipe. You push the door open but give them a look as you step through it.
> 
> “Please try to stay close as well.” You don’t wait for their affirmation before you start to walk, keeping your pace clipped so that they don’t lag behind. The hall they’re being kept in isn’t long, quiet at the moment. You’re glad for that, no need to see how well Daginy would respond to blood just yet.

Vadaya moves much faster than you. You’re not just on crutches, you’re also a lot shorter than him. You can tell he’s slowing down for you, but it’s still quite difficult to keep pace, especially since you’re not very used to crutches.

The hallway isn’t very interesting. It’s short, and there’s no one else there. It’s still the first place you’ve seen that’s not the inside of your medbay. You look around, soaking in all the details, the tiling on the floor, the dust swept into corners, the moulding at the edges of the walls.

It’s not long before you have to slow down even more. You’re in pain- the construct crutches don’t have any padding, and you’re jamming them into your armpits and forcing your already sore shoulders to support your weight.

You’re so  _weak_.

You force yourself to keep marching on. It would only be a short while more, and you wanted to see more of where you’re at more than you wanted to sit down and rest.

You’d ask where you were headed exactly- to find crutches right? But you’re not going to spend the energy on talking.

> It’s hard for you to try and keep yourself slow enough for Daginy. You’re not used to a hobbled pace, but you don’t want to force the smaller troll to push themself trying to keep up. You keep an eye on them as they look around, taking in the dullness of the hallway. 
> 
> But you supposed to a troll who remembered nothing it was much more fascinating.
> 
> They slowed further and you forced yourself to a crawl, reminding yourself that they were still recovering. Xrus had not been kind to them when he had taken Daginy down, you had to be patient.
> 
> The hallway opened up to the main hub of the medical wing, trolls flitting here and there and sitting behind the large desk that sat in the middle of the room. Your appearance got a few curious glances, especially when they realized who it was that was with you, and the same assistant from before came over to give you both a smile. “Can I help you?”
> 
> You nodded, gesturing towards Daginy and your constructs. “Daginy needs some actual crutches. I am afraid my constructs are not as kind to them as the real things would be.” She was nodding before you had even finished, hurrying off to fetch what you required.
> 
> But looking at Daginy again, you decided that it was probably best that you didn’t try pushing them on to finding the crutches yourself.
> 
> “You’re doing well. Do you wish to sit and wait?” You gestured towards the seating arranged not too far away, for trolls who were waiting for their own appointments. At the moment it was thankfully empty, but you thought Daginy had enough in the room to keep their mind busy with.

You make it to the lobby- it’s mostly empty, with only a few people coming in and out of the room. You’re already tired, honestly. Recovery was going to be a long and exhausting process. 

The assistant looks you over, and you feel decidedly self conscious. You wish you had long sleeves instead of the hospital gown, but you guess you don’t have proper clothes either. 

You nod when he asks if you want to sit, rubbing a bead of sweat off your face and crutch your way over to a seat, setting the constructs to the side and putting your hands in your lap. 

You look around the hub, taking in as many details as possible. There’s a bulletin board behind the desk, the secretary behind it, consulting a chart before picking up a phone and dialing. 

A call directory. You wonder what the other pieces of paper on it are. You wish you knew who he was calling and why. You’re not close enough to listen in, and you doubt you can even get there. Somehow you doubt Vadaya’s gonna appreciate your desire to hobble over and eavesdrop on conversations that don’t have anything to do with you. 

You look over at him, a little curiously. He says you know each other, but that was obviously only true for one of you. He’s been patient with your questions so far, but you were mostly asking about yourself. 

Still, something tells you you should be careful trying to probe too much. 

“Why did you join Scimitar?” you ask. “You’re not… you’re not like me, are you?”

> They don’t argue about taking a rest, and as they make their way over to a chair you wonder if they’ll be able to make it back to their room unassisted. You certainly didn’t want to hinder their recovery by pushing them too hard, but you had a feeling they wouldn’t tell you if they were.
> 
> You’d have to keep a close eye on them. At least they were able to get off their feet now and take a breather. And actual crutches would be easier for them to handle. 
> 
> You sit in the chair beside them, hands lax on the armrests. You just watch Daginy from the corner of your vision as they look around, content to enjoy the silence for a bit.
> 
> It was still hard to believe that you were interacting with them like this. How something as simple as a file sent on a chat room could lead you here. The amount of blood shed and lives lost and taken.
> 
> You draw yourself from your thoughts when you notice that they’re looking at you, meeting their gaze calmly. It’s an innocent enough question, you suppose. Just them trying to get to know you in a way they hadn’t been able to before. It was not as if you had had many serious chats together in your game of cat and mouse.
> 
> “No, I am not. I joined young. When the situation I was in became no longer viable for me, it was suggested that I join the Corps.” It was the truth, though a severely watered down version of it. But then part of you remembered their face twisted, hurling ‘freak of nature’ at you. Trying to goad you in to killing them.
> 
> It had almost worked. But you had remembered your mission. And though Daginy would hopefully never realize what led them to this, it was what was best for them. A chance to serve their Empire, rather than try to futilely oppose it.

You nod at his answer, tilting your head a little to look up at him. 

Something about it sounds familiar. You can’t put a finger on it, but it’s not terribly hard to reason out. He’s an indigo with psionics. 

“The situation you were in?” you ask. “Are you-” you hesitate. You feel like you’re treading on dangerous territory, but he’s been fine so far. “Are you talking about the church?”  

He had said you had known each other before. You suppose that means you must have fought. You’re not sure how you survived that. Just looking at yourself you can tell you weren’t made for combat. Your psionics have no real offensive component to them either. What made them pick you up? 

You get the feeling asking too many questions about your past is not the best move. They took your memories for a reason, and immediately going chasing back for them immediately was probably going to get you punished, no matter how much you wanted to know about yourself. 

> They’re certainly not dumb, even with their memories gone. You suppose that it isn’t too much of a leap, tying you with the church. But they hesitated, stumbling over the question. Some deep buried instinct to not pry too deep, or were they actually concerned over upsetting you?
> 
> “That is correct. I was reassigned once my psionics developed.” You kept your voice bland, didn’t let your face give away any emotion. Daginy was uncertain enough without you showing any disapproval after all. They didn’t know how touchy your past could be anymore.
> 
> “It was what was best. And I am happy in my position. It suits me better than being a Subjugglator ever would.” You tap your fingers against the armrest, unable to resist venting a bit of your feelings for a moment before you reined yourself back in.
> 
> The assistant returned, carrying a pair of crutches that looked about the right size for Daginy. She propped them against the wall next to Daginy and you let your constructed ones fade away, watching her as she turned her smile on both of you.
> 
> “Is there anything else you need?” The question was aimed at both of you, and you considered your companion. “I am fine. And you, Daginy?”

He gives you your answers, the ones you half guessed, without a change of expression and you relax. You’re not sure if his following statement is a genuine, or a case of sour grapes, but you’re willing to take it at face value. 

“Well that’s good,” you say as the assistant walks up to you with crutches. She smiles down at you, and you clutch at your elbows self consciously. 

She probably can’t kill you in one shot- she’s olive, so low chance of psionics (but this  _was_  the Imperial Psion Corp so who knew really), but you’re so weak right now you’re pretty sure anyone who tries and attacks you isn’t going to have a hard time. 

The idea that she’d do something like that, however, is pretty patently ridiculous. She was trying to help you. 

And she asks a question, one that Vadaya passes to you, and you fumble, trying to think of something. 

“Uh,” you say. “A jacket?” You shift your so that the scars on the inside of your arms are hidden. You’re not cold, you just feel weird having your arms exposed. 

> They’re wary of the assistant, that’s clear enough in the way they hold themselves when she focuses on them. You wonder how much of it is natural and how much of it is simply because of their weakened, confused state.
> 
> You wonder if you should be trying to tell them that she wouldn’t hurt them. Or that you would stop any attempt from a troll fool enough to try. You were unsure of that instinct, but they would be working under you. It didn’t harm either of you to want to help them while they were still adjusting to their new world.
> 
> She looks towards you when Daginy gives their request, and you just nod to her. “A jacket, then. Something light, if you could.” If it gave them some comfort, you saw no reason to deny them. It was not as if you weren’t aware of how exposed a hospital gown could make a troll feel.
> 
> “Of course. I’ll go see if I can find something your size, then.” She gives Daginy one last smile before she moves away, probably off to check the extra inventory for recruits. Daginy would end up in that uniform for a while anyways when they were healed.
> 
> “When she returns, we will go back to your room. It still takes a lot out of you to go too far right now. But do not worry, your strength will return. And we will be able to venture outside of the medical bay.” You resist the urge to pat them, remembering how they had frozen before. Daginy continued to be quite the puzzle for you.

Your requests are approved through Vadaya, you’ve noticed. The jacket, the crutches, the walk in general, the food, even. You’re sure he’s got some clout on the base. He’s an indigo commander, and you don’t think there are a lot like him in a psion corp. 

You’re not terribly sure what to do with that information, but you know you want Vadaya to like you. If he’s going to be your commander after all, it would be nice to have a good relationship with him. He’s helping you out, and he’s been patient and gentle with you. 

“Alright,” you say with a nod, and reach for your new crutches. You shuffle onto your feet and fit them under your arms. Your shoulders are not actually feeling much better, even with the rest and they most definitely do not appreciate, even the softer, padded crutches. 

When you start, you try to distribute the weight more to your arms, than just your armpits, but you’re not even halfway down the hall before you have to stop, lower the crutches and roll your shoulders with a wince. 

> They get up without any fuss, ready to go. You make sure to go slow, watch your steps and pause if you feel they’re getting too far behind. They aren’t as fast as they had been at the beginning, but they hadn’t gotten too much rest either.
> 
> When they actually stopped, you did as well. You watched them as they rolled their shoulders, obviously still sore. You should have been more careful with them, but their eagerness to get out had gotten to you.
> 
> “I am sorry, Daginy. We have pushed you too far tonight, haven’t we? Especially having to learn how to use the crutches as well. You do not need to walk the rest of the way.” You focused again on your psi, drawing the image in to your focus and letting your gauntlet point at the space in front of you.
> 
> Constructing a wheelchair was something you had done before. You gave it an experimental push, just to make sure you had gotten the wheels right, before you gestured towards it.
> 
> “Here. Sit, rest. It is perfectly safe, I assure you.” Another test of how well they were growing to trust you.

You hesitate, glancing down at the conjured wheelchair then back up at Vadaya. You don’t have a reason to refuse- you’re tired, you’re in pain, it would take you forever to get back to your room. Getting a ride is practical. 

There’s no reason for you to say no, but you grip your crutches until your knuckles pale, then glance back up at Vadaya. 

It’s perfectly safe. You can’t come to more harm sitting in a wheelchair than stumping along with your crutches. It’d be absurd- besides if he wanted to hurt you he’d have done it already. And you don’t want to disappoint him– he made you a wheelchair. 

You stump around to the front of the chair, pick up your crutches, and sit down, acutely, painfully aware of his presence behind you. 

“Thanks,” you say, still holding your crutches tightly with one arm, and clutching the armrest of the wheelchair with the other. 

_It’s perfectly safe_. He knows that you’re afraid, even if you don’t quite understand it yourself. You don’t know what to do about that information. He notices, knows, and cares, you think. It’s a test to see how much you trust him, to see what he has to work with, you think. He’s manipulating you, you think. He just wants to help, you think. 

You bite your lip as you start moving, some thrill of fear running through you before it eases. It’s not a long way back. 

> You weren’t expecting them to immediately jump on the offered wheelchair. They’re eyeing up the wheelchair like it was a trap waiting for them, knuckles tight around the crutches like they’re afraid if they let go of them you’ll rip them away. 
> 
> They glance at you and you keep neutral, patient. You weren’t about to rush their decision for them, they had to realize that trusting you was the best decision on their own.
> 
> It takes them a while, but watching them seat themselves feels like a small victory. They’re stiff as a board you imagine, clutching to the wheelchair with the same white-kuckle intensity. But you don’t offer them any soothing, just nudging the wheelchair forward in a slow roll.
> 
> The trip was silent but brief, as you parked them in front of the door. Just long enough for you to unlock it once more, pulling it open with one hand before you pushed them through.
> 
> “Do you think you can make it back on to the bed unassisted? Or you may remain in the chair and rest, if you would prefer.” You were sure you knew what their answer would be, but you waited for them to speak.

Vadaya doesn’t react to your nervousness, (why are you even so scared), waiting for you to make your decisions, and doesn’t even comment on it as you travel down the hall. 

You don’t really know what you expected out of the ride, but at least it’s smooth. You start a little as he has to stop and unlock the door, and pushes you through. It’s a relief when the journey’s over,  and you put your crutches aside and stand, before Vadaya can even finish his sentence.   
  
You glance back at him, then down at the chair, then back to your bed, which is raised a little higher than you can ably get into. 

“I think I can,” you say, “but I expect I might be about to embarrass myself.” 

You shuffle forward towards the bed, put your elbows on it, and pull the top half of your body onto the bed, leaving your legs dangling off the side. Your shoulders aren’t too happy with the move, but they’re not shrieking so you’ll consider that a win. 

You swing your good leg up onto the bed, and pull your whole body onto the platform. It’s much more tiring than you hoped it would be, and you stay still for a moment before you roll over, nearly rolling off the bed, so you can face Vadaya again. 

“See?” you say, sitting up, your pulse pounding. “Made it.” 

> They were as stubborn as you expected. Or at least they’d rather risk injuring themselves than rely on you for help, but you did you didn’t waste time feeling offended. It was just part of the process, of course they did not immediately fasten on to you as safe.
> 
> But they wanted to spend time with you. You were sure they had already caught on that their comforts were dependant on you. They’d continue to come around.
> 
> “Alright then. Just do not injure yourself further.” They made their decision. All you could do was watch and catch them if they slipped. Thankfully your worry was unneeded once more. It was far from the most graceful moment you had ever seen, but they had it handled.
> 
> A shame it seemed to take so much out of them to do it, however. You let the chair fade as you gave them a slight smile. “So you did. I am sorry you found it so tiring.” At least they still had the juice if all the effort had made them thirsty. 
> 
> “How is your pain? If you are uncomfortable, I am sure the doctorterrorist can provide you some relief. They will probably be by with your medications soon anyways.”

You catch the hint of a smile, the first emoting he’s done with his face this whole time, and you can’t help but grin. 

It still takes you a bit to finagle you back into a comfortable position, something your shoulders still don’t appreciate. You wish you knew what was wrong with them. 

“Do you know what happened to my shoulders?” you ask, reclining against the headboard again and put a hand on one and roll it. It’s a strange ache, like an injury healing. “They hurt more than they should, I think.” 

He mentions the docterrorist coming with medication, and you wonder what you need, besides pain medication for your leg. You’re sure you’ll have the chance to ask- you hope they’ll answer and not just force you to take it. 

You grab the blanket you had draped over yourself earlier and pull it back over your shoulders, making sure it could cover your arms. Some small protection against the idea you might be forced into something.  

> They admit to the pain, but they’re also quick to assure you that they’re fine. Of course, you doubt that they had much access to painkillers in their life. Along with the map of scars on their body, that led to a rather high pain tolerance no doubt.
> 
> You could have pushed them in to getting them, it wasn’t as if they could really try to deny you. But they were smiling at you, even if it was a small one. You decided they could wait until the doctorterrorist came on their own.
> 
> “If you are sure, alright. Just know that if it gets worse, you should ask for medication. It is easier to keep pain down when it is already dulled, rather than have to fight it back all over again. At least, that was what I am always told whenever I have been in the medical bay.” You consider them for a moment before you look around the room. 
> 
> It’s rather bare, not even a television for them. You’d have to make sure they had the beginning reading brought to them as soon as you left, to make sure that they didn’t do anything reckless from boredom.
> 
> You doubted a troll like them enjoyed sitting around doing  _nothing_ after all.
> 
> “Do you have anything else you would like to ask me?” You figured you might as well ask, since you were sure something was brewing away in that head of theirs. What exactly it was was the issue.

You nod at his words. It makes sense, after all. It’s better for you to keep the option open for yourself, instead of not thinking about it if you really needed it. 

He asks if you have any more questions, and you have to pause a moment to think about it. It’s not a matter of  _if_  you have questions. It’s a matter of which ones you should ask, because you have like a million. That and you’re pretty sure if you ask too many questions about your past, which is a lot of your questions, you’re going to get blacklisted and you’re pretty helpless right now. 

Still, the way he asks the question makes it sound like he’s going to leave. As unsure as you are about him, you don’t want him to go. You don’t know what you’ll do alone with your thoughts. The last time you were alone, you were so afraid of the nothingness in your head, and while you have more now, to anchor yourself, your identity still felt more like a cobweb than anything concrete. 

“Are you just here because you’re my commander?” you ask. Wait that sounds needy. “I mean- I mean don’t you have other things to do, if you’re in charge of other people?” Nope that wasn’t better. “Is this standard procedure for ex-rebels?” That was better. “How did they decide to place me with you anyway?” Did that sound too much like you were questioning him? 

You’re starting to feel like you’re talking too much, so you stop to let him answer. You feel heat rise to your face somewhat, fiddling with your blankets as you glance away from him and wish the mediculler would just show up and maybe do the culling part of his job. 

> You weren’t expecting them to dwell so heavily on your question, but Daginy continues to be full of surprises. It makes you curious about what’s going on in their mind, watching their face for any hint of their emotions.
> 
> Finally, the words come. A whole lot of them, questions over questions as they tried to refine what it was they actually wanted to ask. You seem to have cracked the dam, they just kept talking until they finally hit the right questions.
> 
> It was almost endearing when they finally stopped, color high on their cheeks as they seemed to do their best to avoid looking at you. You considered before finally forming another chair to seat yourself in again.
> 
> “It is standard procedure for those that the Empire rehabilitates, yes. Though every troll is different, and needs a different approach at times.” Those that had taken poorly to the conditioning mostly, but Daginy seemed to be doing just fine. You had been concerned, remembering the wild creature they had been when you brought them in. What a change the Torrents could make on a troll.
> 
> “As for how you came to be placed with me… I asked for you. It is not always that simple for other ex-rebels, but. I took an interest in you from before. I knew what sort of potential you could have, so I wished to help you reach it.” You kept your voice a little warmer now. It wasn’t much of a struggle when they were looking so uncertain. You didn’t want them to feel like you would swoop down on them for any mistakes after all.
> 
> It would make watching for them more difficult.

He sits down again and you relax a little, now that it doesn’t look like he’s about to leave again. It’s a little embarrassing how much you don’t want to be alone right now. 

A few more pieces of the puzzle click into place as he answers your questions. He took a specific interest in you– he did say you knew each other. You blink at him, some small measure of warmth in his voice, even with you putting your foot in your mouth. You had a history, it seemed- one only one of you knows.

“Did we.. did we fight?” you ask hesitantly. You’re breaking your rule about asking about the past but you can’t help it, and Vadaya did bring it up first. It confuses you a little, that he saw anything in you in the first place. You’ve taken stock of yourself; you’re more than a foot shorter than him, without any real muscle mass, or any offensive psi really, and he’s more than a couple rungs higher than you on the hemospectrum, with some useful and versatile psi. You’re massively outclassed in terms of combat ability. If you did fight, you’re not sure how it didn’t end quickly and brutally with you dead on the floor. 

“I don’t see.. I don’t see what kind of potential you saw in me,” you admit, self conscious, drawing your blanket closer around you. Maybe it wasn’t a smart move, admitting this much weakness to the troll that probably was deciding whether you’re going to live or die, but it’s too late, you’ve already said the words. You stare at the center of Vadaya’s chest, too embarrassed to look at his face, too paranoid to keep your eyes off of him after that comment. 

> You notice how they relax when you sit, obvious nervous about you leaving. You can’t fault them for that when you were the only friendly face they knew. The docterrorists only monitored patients, they didn’t go around answering questions better left to trolls like you.
> 
> They ask if you fought, tripping over the words like they had a hard time believing them. Not that you could blame them much for that. You didn’t really consider bringing them in a  _fight,_ not in the traditional sense. They’d been too outclassed, already injured by your lusus. Once you had made sure that they weren’t going to do anything foolish like crunch in to a cyanide pill, the most they had been able to do was pull a knife.
> 
> And try to taunt you in to killing them yourself.
> 
> “Our… Battles were mostly of the minds. You are a very smart troll, Daginy. You have sharp wits and know how to use them better than most trolls. You made it challenging for us to help you.” You hoped that satisfied them enough, but the more practical side of you was waiting for follow-up questions. It was hard for your answers to not sprout more questions when they knew nothing.
> 
> Their self-doubt gave you a momentary pause, watching them as they tried to find comfort in tucking themself further in their blanket. They aren’t meeting your eyes, or even trying to act like they’re trying, gaze low and nervous. Ready to be shot down, but you had other ideas.
> 
> “Not every troll is a physical powerhouse. It is much easier to be strong physically than it is mentally. And it is much easier to coach a smart troll in to physical strength than it is to train a strong troll to be wise. In Scimitar, we have batteries composed of trolls who had abilities and strengths that compliment one another. And not every troll in a Battery is meant to be on the front-lines. A good battery always has support. Someone who helps make sure the rest of their battery stays safe.” You fold your hands together, fingers laced together as you watch them.
> 
> “I know you have a lot of untapped potential in a lot of ways. You will see when you begin training.” You thought you were reassuring enough, while also giving them more of the information they craved. You were unused to dealing with self-doubt, it was not as if your battery suffered from it often. 

His words make sense- it’s a kind of a relief, to be perfectly honest, that he’s not expecting physical combat from you. A support role makes a lot more sense with your capabilities.

“I see,” you say, turning his words over in your mind. They dig up about a million new questions and you glance over at him- he’s as impassive as ever- you don’t think he really minds, he’s answered every question so far.

“Mental battles?” you ask. You can’t quite imagine what that looks like. Rebels were- rebels were bad but you’re honestly not sure what kind of things they did except oppose the Empire. “So I was basically outwitting you and stuff?”

You scratch your head. That was awfully vague honestly. And as for you being smart- well, that seems kind of a hard thing to quantify for yourself so you think maybe you should just believe Vadaya on that one. There had to be some reason all this time and effort is being spent on you.

And it was another piece missing from the tapestry of your identity. You had a strength beyond being absolutely helpless.

“I’m going to be part of a battery?” you ask. You’re going to have a team- it’s a little apprehensive, a little familiar, you think, to be working with one. “When do I get to meet them? What other powers do they have? What’s training going to look like?”

> “More or less. You were very good at hiding yourself. I would be tearing apart your hiding spots while you were making new ones.” You were careful to avoid talk of their comrades- you and your teams had not been as kind to most of the rebels as you had been with Daginy, after all.
> 
> Most had fallen in battle. Others had been brought in, questioned. You were sure you knew their fates. For a moment you had to wonder how Daginy had felt, having their teammates fall. How close they were. If you had culled quadrants.
> 
> “Eventually you will join a battery, yes. All Scimitar trolls do, once they have been deemed ready that is.” These were questions you were more comfortable answering. Their interest in serving was to be encouraged, after all.
> 
> “But first, you will have to go through training. Basic at first. Training your body and your mind. Then once you are ready, you will have stabilizers installed.” You raise your non-gauntleted hand, showing the gear to them. “Then it is more training, focused on improving your strength and control over your psionics.”
> 
> You drop your hand again, watching their face as you speak. “After your training is complete, you will take a test. And your performance and your natural personality will be taken in to account and you will be sorted in to a battery. Either a newly formed one, or one that has suffered a loss and needs a new troll to take the place of the fallen.”
> 
> No need to sugarcoat that trolls die in service. It was an unfortunate part of war.

You nod slowly. It still doesn’t explain what exactly you did as a rebel- what did you do to make him chase you? But you think he’s been avoiding the subject, and so you hesitate. Maybe he won’t tell you the truth about it- there’s a reason they took your memories, after all. Still, there was only one way to find out. 

“What did I do to make you chase me like that?” you ask, rubbing the back of your neck. “It- it must have been bad.” 

You wanted to know, but you don’t want to know at the same time. You  _knew_  you had dark spots on your past, and you’re not sure you want to know what you’re capable of. But it was still a part of you that you were missing. 

You peer over at his enhancements, lifting a hand on an impulse to reach out and touch, but he puts his hand back down. You glance to check to make sure you haven’t crossed any boundaries. 

“What do the stabilizers do?” you say. “Is it a part of your hand?” 

You’re not sure how you feel about getting tech installed  _into_  you. It reminds you of helmsmen and ports, and you frown at the spark of familiarity. You must have dealt with them a lot from before. 

You glance over at Vadaya’s other hand, the metal one. “Is that part of your stabilizer set up too?” 

> There’s another pause as they obviously try to work their way back up to another question, but you don’t pressure them. Waiting patiently had so far worked just fine in getting them to open up, and pushing might just get them to close up and get defensive.
> 
> “You opposed the Empire. Your actions lead to the deaths of others, you funneled information to others who had desires to harm the Empire. You were a danger, and one that I had to see handled properly.” You weren’t about to drag out the list of their crimes to read to them, but with their rehabiliation you had hopes that knowing just that much would be more than enough.
> 
> They reach for your hand just as you drop it, looking at you like they’re afraid you don’t wish to be touched. So you extend your hand again to them, trying another smile.
> 
> “They help a troll control their psionics. They act as a… Focuser. It allows you finer detailing, to control things without using as much of your energy. Mine are mostly to help connect me to my psionics quicker than I can without them. You may touch, if you are curious. It is a part of my hand, yes.”
> 
> You raise your other arm at their question, fingers uncurling. “Yes and no. It acts as a stabilizer, but it has other purposes as well. You will not need to worry about getting it. Most Scimitars have two ordinary stabilizers, like my other hand.” You knew how intimidating the AREMA could be, especially to think about getting it installed.
> 
> It certainly hadn’t been the most pleasant experience you had ever had.

You’re right– hearing about your crimes is hard. You’re relieved when he doesn’t go into detail, and you rub your head ruefully. At least those days are behind you. 

When he offers you his hand with a smile, you pick up your own again and touch his finger, fascinated. Gathering up your bravery, you run your fingers over the metal length, smoothing them over the ridge where it connects to his skin. His hand is a lot bigger than yours. 

“I see,” you say, and let go, lifting both your hands, wiggling your middle fingers. 

“So these two?” you ask, staring at your hands, trying to picture what your hands would look like with two prosthetics. You glance over at Vadaya’s hands and with a shimmer, your psi creates the illusion. You wiggle your hands, not sure how to feel about it, before you let it disappear. 

You imagine it hurts, but that doesn’t make you as nervous as the thought of you willingly losing a finger. You suppose that’s just another thing you’ll have to get used to. At least you’re not removing your entire arm. You imagine that really hurt. 

“When I get sorted into a battery,” you ask. “Will you still be my commander?” 

> They don’t ask for more details, and you’re glad for it. Another step in the right direction for the rehabiliation, after all. And hopefully with the more they learn about their new purpose, the less they’ll wish to know of their past.
> 
> Their hand is warm when it hits where metal meets flesh, so delicate looking. But you were always a big troll, well fed by the Program during most of your growing years. They didn’t have that luxury.
> 
> “Yes, those two.” You watch them curiously as they reach for their psionics again, able to see the way they form the image on their hands. You decide to leave the ports discussion for another night, allow them time to get used to the idea of the stabilizers before you moved on to the technology most trolls knew more about.
> 
> “Using your psionics does not cause you any problems, does it? Other than that one incident, you seem to be using them quite well.” You drop your arms back to your chair, musing on just how useful they’ll be once they had the proper tech and training.
> 
> “Yes, I will still be your commander. Your battery will just come to work under me, when it is formed.” It wasn’t a hard promise to make- you knew that Daginy was your responsibility now, and that meant keeping them close where you could keep an eye on them. Even after they had achieved a rank, you had to be vigilant. Some rehabilitated trolls could shatter later on, and you refused to allow them to go rebel again.

“I see,” you say nodding. It feels a bit weird the way the chain of command works, but you suppose that it’s standard procedure for ex-rebels to stay with their commanders. You’ll be glad to have one familiar face, at least.

You shake your head. 

“No,” you say. “It’s a little complicated to manage sometimes because there’s so much stuff going on.” You don’t make illusions, really. You’re bending light. And doing that from so many different angles so that everyone sees what you’re supposed to– it’s not easy to hold all those threads in the proper places, and it does tire you out. “The nausea I think, was just from me not seeing properly, not from psionic use.” 

The motions you go through to make images- especially standalone images, there’s something about it that feels practiced, worn. You must have worked hard, before, to get to the point where you can do this. 

Changing colors is so much easier than making an illusion. You look up at the ceiling lights and wonder if you can- the lights blink out, washing everything out in darkness- yup. You can. 

“Sorry,” you say, as the lights come back on. “That was me.” 

It wasn’t like you actually turned off the lights- you just prevented the light from going anywhere. It takes effort to keep up though. Even though your power wasn’t offensive at all- you guess you do have a lot of versatility. 

> They nod along, not questioning the hows of their placement. It wasn’t like the it wasn’t anything they’d be learning soon enough, once they had begun their training. Books would help sate their curiosity on things that were not specific to their situation at least.
> 
> “Well the stabilizers will help you not have to focus as much of your attention on doing things, I believe. They will relieve some of the strain so that you can do more. Especially when you are properly trained, we have experts who will help you best utilize your abilities.” You were so pleased with their progress.
> 
> Until the lights went out.
> 
> You knew, logically, that there wasn’t much they could do to you. They were unarmed, injured and exhausted. But that didn’t stop you from listening, straining to hear for signs of movement. There was the fork from their lunch after all, if they were desperate-
> 
> The lights come back on and they’re just in bed as they were before. Apologizing. “It is alright, Daginy. Perhaps give a bit of warning if you choose to do something like that again.” You don’t let what you had been thinking reflect in your voice, your face. You’re tense, but it’s easy to relax, let it just pass for surprise.
> 
> “Just do not tire yourself out too much. We would not wish for you to burn out.”

‘Sorry,” you apologize again, rubbing the back of your head sheepishly. 

Vadaya relaxes, and you realize your faux pas. He’s a soldier– a sudden black out in his own military base might have signaled an attack. You have a feeling if your places were reversed you’d be just as on guard. 

And he’s still worrying about you. You nod, feeling a little ashamed. 

“I’ll take it easy,” you promise. It’s a little hard to resist, to be perfectly honest. Your psi is the only thing you can really toss around, and it’s not like it really harms anything. But you are feeling a little strained, especially since you have to keep up with your eye. 

A knock on the door startles you, and the mediculler pushes open the door. 

“Ah yes,” he says, looking towards Vadaya and nodding. “Commander. Recruit.”

You shift uncomfortably as he bustles around the little room, opening cabinets and pulling out trays and cups as he taps pills into a cup and fills a cup with water. 

“Oh I see you still have juice leftover,” he says, and hands you the tray. 

You glance down at the pills, then back up at the mediculler. 

“What’s the medicine for?” you ask. “Do you know what happened to my shoulders?”

He looks to Vadaya, hesitating, as if asking for permission to answer. You grab your blankets, a little frustrated. Was Vadaya the only one allowed to answer your questions? 

> “It is alright. I realize you are excited about seeing what you can do with your psionics. Just as long as you do not strain yourself, and you give me a warning before you do things like black out the lights.” You let your ruffled feathers smooth at their repeated apology. They seemed to realize their mistake, that was all that you asked for.
> 
> You turn in your seat at the knock, not terribly surprised when it opened to reveal the mediculler. It was about that time of night after all, even without Daginy’s trip out they would have started to feel some discomfort soon you were sure.
> 
> “Good evening, Mediculler.” You nod back and settle back to watching Daginy. You’re not too interested in what the mediculler is doing after all, you know why they’re here.
> 
> It’s only when he gives the medication to Daginy that the trouble begins- you should have known. And when he looks to you for approval on answering them, Daginy notices. Of course they do, knuckles tight in the blankets like it would relieve some of their emotions.
> 
> You knew the mediculler knew better than to tell them the truth on what had happened to their shoulders, so you focused on the pills presented to them. “Painkillers. Probably some vitamins, to make up for any low levels caused by a poor diet. And an antibiotic, perhaps?” They were all pills to you, but you were willing to guess, putting on a smile for them.

The mediculler coughs awkwardly into his hand and nods. 

“Yes, Commander,” he says. “Those two are antibiotics, a probiotic, painkillers, and vitamins.” 

He points to each pill in turn, explaining. You raise an eyebrow. 

“Two antibiotics?” 

The mediculler nods, glancing back at Vadaya again. 

“One for your leg, the other for your eye,” he says. 

That makes you pause. “For my eye?” you exclaim, whirling to look at Vadaya, and then back at the mediculler. “What’s wrong with my eyes?” 

The mediculler just looks at Vadaya again, sweat beginning to bead on his brow, and you look back at him again, somewhat alarmed. Something’s wrong with your eye?

“Don’t I get to know what’s wrong with me?” you demand. You clutch your blankets tighter to yourself, some old fear returning. It’s an acute awareness, of how vulnerable you are. It was worse in the beginning, when you truly had nothing but this felt like you threw back several steps. 

> It starts out alright, your suspicions confirmed. But when they ask about the antibiotics, the mediculler falters. Information you hadn’t wanted released yet, and the way Daginy reacts is why.
> 
> Your gaze goes flat on the mediculler the moment Daginy looks away from you, a silent warning before you school it away. Daginy is obviously panicked, the knowledge that something was off about them even driving them to take on a new tone with you.
> 
> But then they settle in to silence, trying to bundle their cocoon of blankets tighter around themself. You hate unexpected surprises, but you hadn’t gotten as far as you have without learning how to deal with them.
> 
> “Of course you do, Daginy. My apologies, I simply believed you had had enough things to worry about tonight. Your eyes are fine, the antibiotics are just to be safe. Your better eye is just a robotic implant. As I said before, rebel life is a hard one. You must have lost it in the past, but the scienterrorists were able to replace it.”
> 
> You kept your voice voice, your attempt at being soothing. “It was not something we planned to keep from you. We simply did not want to overwhelm you right now. As you are no doubt starting to feel.” If you had to sedate them, you were going to make sure this mediculler lost their license.

Your right eye is robotic. That was why they were so mismatched– you lift a shaking hand to your face, trying to process the information, taking big gulps of air. 

Your right eye is robotic- like the many scars on your body, one of them just happened to be in your head, and you didn’t know how any of it got there. 

“I- my,” you stammer.  “You d-don’t know what happened?” 

It’s familiar, somehow, the idea of a defunct right eye, it makes sense, the visual difference, the slight adjustment you needed even after you correct with psi–  _you had lost an eye_ , and you didn’t even  _know_. 

You try and remember how  _you lost your freaking eye_ , how do you  _not_  remember something like that, but trying to remember anything is like falling into a void, or running into an invisible wall, over and over again– you’re not breathing– you can’t breathe, drawing one gasping breath after the other. You tear at the blankets you have draped around yourself, pulling at the hospital gown, and curl up even tighter, holding your head in your arms. 

You feel like you’re dying, the room pressing in on you– and it’s not even unfamiliar– have you died? What in the world was going on?

> Panic attacks are far from your specialty. A good soldier doesn’t panic, doesn’t lose control of themself the way Daginy is so clearly crumbling in front of you. It’s like they suddenly can’t breathe, and their words when they come are a mess.
> 
> “No, I do not know what happened. Daginy, please try to calm yourself-”
> 
> You don’t finish your words, because their breathing is just getting worse. They’re yanking at fabric, curling themselves up as best they can with their injured knee and shoulders and just working themself up further.
> 
> You stand, the mediculler ignored- for now, oh you had  _words_ for them later- as you reach to put a hand on a thin shoulder again. Trying to get them to focus on anything but their building panic as you struggled to think of what to say.
> 
> “You need to focus on your breathing Daginy. Can you do that for me? Deep breaths.” Were you going to have to sedate them? So much for the progress you had made. They were still too sensitive for this sort of information, what was the mediculler  _thinking?_

You struggle with the panic, and when a hand touches your shoulder, you jump, jerk away, and look for the source. 

Vadaya. You had almost forgotten he was there. 

You grab his hand before he can touch you again- but you cling to it, holding onto it as tight as you can, like it’ll anchor you in the whirling panic of your lost identity. 

He’s saying something about breathing- to take deep breaths. You put your head on your good knee and keep your eyes closed, curling up again as you try and do as he asks. 

It triggers something familiar- you’ve done this before- somewhere, somehow, and you start counting- breathing in- one, two, three, four, five. Breathing out. One two three four five. You don’t always get it right, but you start to calm down. You’re shaking when you finally calm down enough to look back up. 

Your vision is crooked, and so you dip your head down again– trying to pull enough psi together to fix it but it bleeds through your control like water through your fingers. You’re going to have to wait that one out. 

“I am so, so, sorry,” you hear the mediculler saying. “I didn’t- I wasn’t informed- I didn’t realize they didn’t know.” 

You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for. You asked for it, and now you knew. You still have Vadaya’s hand, but you don’t really want to let it go just yet. 

> They jerk away from you like your touch is scalding, but before you can pull it back Daginy is holding on to it for dear life. The strength in it is a little surprising, but you leave it for them to hold. If they needed the comfort to get through this, so be it.
> 
> At least they seem to be listening to you about breathing. It’s not hard to catch how to try to take deeper breaths, falling in to it a bit better than you had expected them to. But if they were having panic attacks now, they must have suffered from them before. Another facet of Daginy that you certainly never saw when you were hunting them down.
> 
> They’re shaking like a leaf when they can pull their head out from the ball they’ve arranged themself in to. It’s hard to believe their age when they look like this, so shaken by this new knowledge.
> 
> But they weren’t letting it overcome them. They weren’t staying in their ball, hyperventilating until they passed out or were sedated. But it still shouldn’t have happened like this.
> 
> The mediculler is blabbering, excuses you didn’t want to hear right now. With Daginy’s head tucked away again, you felt safe giving him your most cutting glare. “Please leave now. We will call if we need you.” You knew his name. You’d deal with him later.
> 
> Daginy wasn’t letting go of you, but you were in no rush for them to. You let the glare fall as you face them again. “I am sorry Daginy. Just keep breathing. It is alright.” Focusing on calming them down was more important than the mediculler anyways.

You hear Vadaya order the mediculler away despite his apologies, flat and unamused, and then he apologizes to  _you_. 

You stay like that for awhile more until your shaking slows to a mere tremble, and you look up at Vadaya again, keeping a hand over your left eye– your non-robotic one so you can see properly. 

You shake your head. 

“Don’t be mad at him,” you mumble. “He was just answering my questions.” You uncurl again, and let go of Vadaya’s hand, a little embarrassed. It was a wriggler move. You tuck your hand back closer to your chest. 

What  _was_  that? 

You felt like you were about to  _die,_  you were suddenly so afraid, and you couldn’t breathe- You take another deep and steady breath, so you don’t work yourself up again. 

You’ve probably had them from before, considering some part of you knew how to handle it once Vadaya got you started, but if this was a regular thing, you were  _not_ looking forward to it again. It was… it was fear, and a lot of it, all of a sudden. You’ve  _been_ afraid. You’ve been afraid since you’ve woken up, and it didn’t always feel rational to you. This certainly wasn’t. What the heck was wrong with you?

> You don’t watch the mediculler as they leave, focused on watching Daginy as they continue to shake. But they work through it, starting to calm as the time passes.
> 
> And then they’re looking up at you, so quick to defend the troll who had sent them down this spiral in the first place. Of course. Still the troll they were before, ready to leap to the defense of anyone they felt needed  _saving._ You were unsure of how you would deal with that, when training began.
> 
> “He made a mistake and it hurt you, Daginy. It was not right of him to do, not like that. As I said before, I had no intentions of hiding it from you. But I did not wish to spring it on you like this.” They let go of your hand and you withdraw it, giving them a slight frown.
> 
> “Trolls who make mistakes face some sort of punishment. It is how they learn not to do it again. The mediculler has probably faced worse than me being upset with him.” It made clear sense to you, and it seemed a good lesson for Daginy to begin to learn as well.
> 
> As gentle an approach as you could see, at least.
> 
> “Just stay as you are for a bit, until you have finished calming down. Then we will see about your medication. I simply do not wish for the pain to start to bother you, especially after all the extra moving you have done.” You doubt that being curled up was too enjoyable a position, but they seemed determined to stay that way. Safe, for whatever reason.

You can feel yourself wilt at the first hint of a frown, folding in on yourself a little more as you nod, casting your gaze to the side. It made sense what he was saying– it just doesn’t sit right by you for whatever reason.

Was it the concept of punishment in general? No- it’s that the mediculler didn’t endanger you in the end, and it’s your own fault you can’t keep it together.

It wasn’t as though you weren’t grateful for the robot eye- you’re using it right now. You just overreacted to the information, thrown off by what you didn’t know.

You’re not sure how much you want to tell Vadaya that and risk his displeasure again. You try to meet his gaze but you can’t keep it up, your uncovered eye flickering to the ground every second or so. You’re just out of energy- your flip out has wrung you out to dry and you still need to take your meds.

You nod, keeping your eyes low, your fingers twisted in your blanket. Now that he mentions it, your shoulders are complaining quite loudly after the little work out you gave them. You shift so you put less strain on them, leaning back, but still not feeling secure enough to lean all the way back. Deep breaths. Take deep breaths.

> They’re so withdrawn now, not even daring to look at you straight anymore- their eye rises and then shies away from you. You wait for them to speak, say something to you, but all they can muster up is a nod.
> 
> That worries you. You don’t think you were  _cruel_ to the mediculler- you let him know you were unimpressed with his blunder and dismissed him, but you did not think you did anything to provoke this new defensiveness.
> 
> But perhaps it was just the rapid-fire events on a body and mind that were still healing. They had barely had the energy to get back in to bed before their freak-out after all, Daginy had to be exhausted now.
> 
> And aching, you mentally added as they shifted on the bed. The urge to just tell them to take their medication was rising, but you tamped it down easily. You weren’t going to crush their trust in you by throwing out orders now, you could wait. If the pain grew, a little discomfort never culled a troll.
> 
> “I will leave you to rest in a little bit. Once I am sure you are settled, of course. I did not mean for your first night to be so stressful on you Daginy. The next night will not take such a toll on you, I will make sure of it.” You’re back to soothing, trying to help with the deep breaths they were taking. Despite the initial surprise of their panic attack, they seemed to be dealing well for a troll who couldn’t even recall  _why_ they had the attacks.

You nod slowly. It figures tomorrow won’t be as rough as today- you had so much to adjust to today, but he’s making promises about it like he can control everything. Which, he might, really.

You don’t want him to leave, no, but you want to lie down and rest as well. And you’re sure he has other things to do. You continue to breathe and uncurl slowly.

You make a grab for your psi and it holds this time. You take your hand from your eye and blink, seeing properly again, which makes you feel a bit better too.

You can’t remember where you put the pills, looking around for them, when you realize you’ve dropped them in your blankets. You pick up the little plastic cup and start looking for the pills. Two antibiotics, a probiotic, painkillers and vitamins.

“Do-” you falter a little. You think he probably doesn’t know, but it can’t hurt to ask. “Do you know if that- that happens a lot? The uh, the freak out thing.”

You glance back up at him, and go back to looking for the medicine.

> Finally they manage to recover enough to straighten back out, and when they drop their hand off their eye you give them another small, pleased smile. You’d have to come up with some sort of plan for these attacks if they turned in to a common occurance.
> 
> There was the chance this was a one-off incident, but the way they dealt with it made you think otherwise. Another unseen obstacle, but you weren’t about to be intimidated.
> 
> They’re searching out their pills, so they don’t look at you when they ask their question. Only at the end, a quick glance before they resumed scouting them out. “No, I do not know Daginy. But many trolls might react the same way to such startling news. It is hard for you now, but hopefully things will improve as you regain your strength and you are able to learn more.”
> 
> You consider them for a moment, judging your next words. “If they continue to inconvenience you, we will find a way to help you work through them. So do not worry.”

You pick up all the pills and reach for the rest of your juice.

Vadaya’s talking like this happens to other people too, which is honestly such a relief. You were thinking you were maybe losing your mind on top of your memory, or that maybe you were always crazy, considering your body felt a little like it was used to this.

If Vadaya didn’t know from before, you guess you kept it down when it mattered, though. Hopefully it wouldn’t pop up again.

“Okay,” you say.

You take your pills, one at a time, and there are quite a bit of them. When you’re done, you set the juice aside and lean back into your pillow, finally calm enough to do so again.

“I- thank you, Vadaya,” you say, looking up at him again, feeling strangely shy.

> You’re glad that they didn’t seem to hesitate over taking the pills. It had been a slight worry since they had been so wary of the food, but perhaps their break down had dimmed that particular fire for the night. Or maybe they were beginning to trust that you actually had their best interests at heart.
> 
> It was mostly true, after all.
> 
> You watch them pop pill after pill, washed down by the juice until they all vanished. You stood to take the tray and the empty cup when they were done with it, setting them out of the way as they leaned back in to the bed.
> 
> Their thank you was a bit of a surprise, but a welcome one. “Of course, Daginy. You do not need to thank me, I am here to help you after all. I am sure after you rest, you will have your jacket waiting for you. And some reading material to pass the time, I will make sure of it.”
> 
> You look around the room, trying to figure out if they would need anything. Their crutches were close at hand, they had food and drink- you were sure once the painkillers kicked in they would get drowsy. 
> 
> A thought occured and you moved for the cabinets, pulling out one the sopor patches you knew were kept supplied to bring to them. “Here you are. Hopefully in a few more nights you can be moved to a proper recuperacoon, but for now you will have to make due.”

You accept the sopor patch, a little surprised.

“Thanks,” you say, looking up at him. It’s a level of thoughtfulness you’re not really expecting, to be honest, though technically he’s been very kind. You hardly expect your regular purpleblood to do basic tasks like clean out your tray. He says you shouldn’t thank him, but you are really rather grateful.

You had forgotten about sopor patches in all honesty, until he had given one to you, one more piece of knowledge recovered. Without it you would have probably been in for a rougher night.

It’s definitely a strange feeling, to be looked after, but after the night you’ve had it’s not unwelcome.

“Are you staying until I fall asleep?” you ask. It sounds like a wriggler question in all honesty, and you don’t know what you want his answer to be. Being the commander of a battery probably had all sorts of responsibilities besides looking after invalids and you don’t want to keep him away, you don’t want to be alone and Vadaya’s been the only person who hasn’t left within minutes, the idea of someone watching you sleep is kind of nerve wracking to be perfectly honest.

> You don’t miss their surprise, but you don’t comment on it either. They’d learn quickly that you were there to assist them, they were sharp. And you could see it happening, even if you wondered how well that would go with their natural suspicious nature.
> 
> “Of course, Daginy. You need proper rest to heal, and that means sopor. If the patches do not help enough, tomorrow you can try pills instead.” You preferred the patches yourself- you could peel a patch off if you needed to. You had a feeling they would feel the same once they were reminded of the options.
> 
> You pause at their question, head tilting as you watch them. It wasn’t something you had considered, really- you had been planning on leaving now that they were settled and had the patch. But they were still nervous, uncertain of everything around them. Would it hurt anything?
> 
> “Well Daginy. What option do you wish for me to do? If you have a preference for me leaving now, or waiting until you are asleep, I will do that.” It didn’t hurt to give them the control for this situation. Another strand of care, trust to help build between you.

You hesitate at the question. You’re not sure if there’s a trick to it, if there’s a right answer, what you even want the answer to be.

“I think-” you say a little hesitantly, “I think I want to be alone.”

You tuck yourself further into your blankets, scooting down into the bed. You think he’ll probably comply.

“Do you need to lock the door?” you ask.

You don’t know how to feel about that either. On one hand you’re locked in the room and you can’t get out. On the other hand you can’t go far anyway and restricting the number of people who can access the room is also probably safer.

You’d like a key, essentially, but that might be too much for an ex-rebel. You wonder how much Vadaya trusts you.

> They tell you they want to be alone, and you nod. It’s a simple enough request, one you would have made in their position. You think it would have been difficult, trying to fall asleep with still unfamiliar eyes watching you.
> 
> “Alright then. I will come by again to see you tomorrow.” You’re turning for the door when they pipe up again, pausing mid-step to consider them. You knew the answer well enough, but you didn’t know how best to explain it to them.
> 
> “Yes, I will need to lock it. It is not exactly a choice, simply procedure. Even if I did not lock it, the medicullers would after they came by to check on you later. But in a few nights you will be moved from this room in to something more comfortable. Without a locked door.” By then you hoped you would have a stronger connection to them.
> 
> You didn’t want to have to consider the possibility of them running on you. It seemed unlikely right now, but you did not want to get overconfident in your knowledge of them either.

You nod, drowsily, glad that he’s doing as you asked. His last answer does make you pause a moment. He talks a lot when he gets defensive, you’ve noticed but idea that you’ll get an unlocked room somewhere in the future is comforting. Some time in the future when you can move on your own.

“Okay,” you say. “Good light, Vadaya.”

You peel the sopor patch off the little sticker and put it on your arm, already feeling unreasonably drowsy.

When the door closes behind him, it’s like switch is pulled and immediately sleep swallows you up.


	5. Chess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vadaya reteaches Daginy how to play chess on their hospital bed from both POVs.

“Chess?”

You look at the purple board that has materialized in front of you, different pieces of different shapes arranged in neat rows in front of you. You know it’s a game, a game that’s so familiar to you, you’re pretty sure you know how to play.

You look back up at Vadaya, whose conjured up a tall enough chair that you can sit level, and a small stand to set the board up. He’s looking at you intently, and you think you can read him well enough by now to say, he’s excited. As excited as he gets at least.

“I…” you say uncertainly. “I think I know how to play. I don’t remember very well.”

“I can teach you,” he says. “What do you remember?”

You sit forward and pick up the purple construct pieces, their names coming back to you as fiddle with them.

“A pawn?”

You set it down in place on the board.

“Moves one square at a time.”

Vadaya nods, then pulls your pawn forward another square.

“Except you can choose to move forward two squares on your first move,” Vadaya says. You nod, the rules unfolding in your mind as he speaks. “And when you capture with a pawn-”

“-you can only move diagonally,” you say. “Except the en passant. Second move of a pawn that’s moved forward two squares. Can capture a piece next to it by moving diagonally.”

Vadaya nods.

“An obscure rule,” he says. There’s a lilt in his voice that is as impressed as he gets. “I’m surprised you know it.”

You shrug your shoulders and grin sheepishly. “Well I can’t say I remember how I know.”

He smiles his small smile, shuffling forward in his seat and leans closer towards the board.

“Start from the outside in,” he says. “We can tune up your knowledge of the rules.”

You do, and you manage most of them. The way the knights move trip you up momentarily, but you catch up very quickly.

“Black or white?” He asks.

The two sides are the exact same color- purple- and you snort. He’s made the two sets look different- one of them is a slender set, using curved lines, the other one much bulkier, each piece a block with a letter carved into it.

The board itself is purple too, and you can’t tell what square is what.

“Here,” you say, and focus a little, and the board washes out in black and white. You take the slender set it pales to white, the other, black.

It takes a little focus to maintain, but it’s not so bad. You glance up at Vadaya, who nods approvingly.

“Good practice,” he says. “Shall we?”

–

“Mate in one,” Vadaya says quietly.

You squint at the board. This wasn’t even near the end of the game yet, but he’s got a much better position on the board. He moved his queen straight up near the center, pushing near into the center of your flank.

You glance up at his face warily. He’s got the bottom half of his face obscured by his hand when he catches your gaze, and raises an eyebrow.

He’s up to something definitely. You eye the board again, and note that his queen can thread past your defenses, take your rook and start eating up your pieces from there. It’s not the checkmate, but you cautiously shift your rook to the only space you can.

You look back up at Vadaya, whose eyebrow is still all the way up his forehead.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

You shake your head quickly.

“No,” you say. “But go anyway.”

He gives you a sidelong look then takes his queen and pushes it in right next to your king.

“Checkmate,” he says and you gasp.

“No!” you exclaim, picking your king and tapping the top of his queen. “I can still-”

“Look closer,” he says, and you do. What’s keeping your king from just taking your queen? You look, and a bishop spies on the square from all the way across the board.

You groan, throw your hands up in the air.

“Again,” you demand.

There’s a twinkle in his eye, just the hint of a smile as he obliges, the pieces all disappearing momentarily and blinking back into their original places with a bit of psi.

“Black or white?” he asks. You wash out the board accordingly.

–

You squint at Vadaya as you trade queens.

“Are you going easy on me?” you demand, frowning.  

You’re picking up the game quickly, but you’re not evenly matched. Vadaya set up his pieces much more effectively than yours, and he’s using it to good advantage with long lines of sight for his pieces.

You sort of expected him to wreck you in a matter of moves, like he did the first few games, but you’ve been playing defensively, blocking his range with protected pieces, wrestling for territory.

Vadaya shakes his head, a wry smile on his face, shifting to lean forward and take your queen in return.

“I don’t go easy,” he says. “Make your move.”

You manage to drag it out until he’s down to only his king, a rook and a bishop, but you only have a knight. He corners you on the board and you groan loudly, cross your arms and pout.

Vadaya actually chuckles-  _chuckles_ , and you lose the pout, grinning back at him, delighted.

“You’ve been improving quickly,” he says. “Perhaps you will one of these games you will beat me.”

“Again,” you say.

“Black or white?” he says.

-

You chew your lip as you examine the board. You had a decent opening game this time, taking the center section of the territory, and the game had played out from there. Vadaya would make encroachments on your territory, and you defended, and the board got locked down.

“You play too defensively,” Vadaya says. “You need to make sacrifices.”

It’s true- there are too many pawns on the board. You’re not sure what he saw, but you’re certain he’s seen openings you didn’t take.

“Yeah,” is all you say in return, as you stare down at the board, chewing on your thumbnail. You hesitate, then move a pawn outside of the protective chain, leaving it undefended.

It opens up your bishop to actually move, and the loss of the pawn won’t hurt you- you’re pretty sure.

The game opens up, and when Vadaya moves, he moves confidently to crush all your defenses, worming his way to victory.

You take a long stare at the board, trying to figure out where you went wrong.

“Again,” you say, and he chuckles.

“I am sorry, Daginy,” he says, and the board disappears. “I believe I’m out of time. I must get back to work.”

You sigh, disappointed, but smile wryly at him. You played at least a dozen games and you lost them  _all_. You’re going to beat him eventually.

“We’ll play more the next time I visit,” he promises you. “You’re improving very quickly.”

“I had fun,” you say with a nod.

When he leaves you draw up your own illusory chessboard and play yourself. You need to practice after all. If you’re supposed to be smart- if that’s the reason why you’re here– well. You’re going to beat Vadaya. 

–

You spot the opening. You grab your chin and force yourself to look contemplative, so you don’t give yourself away.

Vadaya moves his knight up into your ranks, taking the bait of the knight fork- you don’t need your queen for this– you grin, moving your bishop into place.

“Check,” you say.

Vadaya glances up at you, and you grin back at him.

“Ah,” he says, moving his king back one square. You take your rook and deposit it on the back line.

“Checkmate!” you crow, throwing your hands up in the air. Giddiness bubbles up into your throat and you laugh, clapping.

Vadaya smiles at you, really smiles.

“Congratulations,” he says. “It only took you three days.”

You gasp, and laugh delightedly. He’s  _teasing_  you.

“I’ll beat you again,” you challenge him, plucking his king off the board and shaking it at him. “This? This is mine.”

The construct dissolves in your hand, and it only takes you a moment to replace it with an illusion. You wiggle your empty fingers at him.

“Nice try,” you say, putting your other hand over your mouth to stifle the giggles.

Vadaya shakes his head with a chuckle and resets the board.

“I see you relish your victories,” he says. “Let’s see if you can claim another one.”

“Black or white?” you ask.

He wins that game– but you win the next.

\----

“Chess?”

Daginy furrows their brow at the board you’ve materialized in front of them. Chess would be an excellent test of their tactical abilities and intelligence, and a good way to pass the time of your visits. There were only so many questions they could ask you, after all. It also didn’t hurt that you enjoyed the game.

“I…” Daginy says, touching their chin. “I think I know how to play. I don’t remember very well.”

You nod. With everything else wiped from their mind it is fortunate enough they have even that.

“I can teach you,” you say. “What do you remember?”

Daginy picks up a piece from the board, biting their lip as they examine it.

“A pawn?” they say, somewhat uncertainly, then places it back down on the board one square ahead. “Moves one square at a time.”

You nod, then lean forward and move it up one more square. For such a basic piece, the pawn had many rules.

“Except you can choose to move forward two squares on your first move,” you says. Daginy nods along, brow furrowed.  “And when you capture with a pawn-”

“-you can only move diagonally,” they interrupt you. “Except the en passant. Second move of a pawn that’s moved forward two squares. Can capture a piece next to it by moving diagonally.”

You nod, somewhat impressed. It’s not a rule that comes up very often, but somehow, they had kept it in their memory.

“An obscure rule,” you say. “I’m surprised you know it.”

They shrug their shoulders and offer you a sheepish grin. “Well I can’t say I remember how I know.”

You give them a small smile. It seems they’ve accepted, at least somewhat, the loss of their memory, if they’re joking about it.

“Start from the outside in,” you say. “We can tune up your knowledge of the rules.”

Their grasp on the rules is inconsistent. Some pieces are easier on them than the others, but it doesn’t take long for them to grasp the basics.

“Black or white?” you ask.

They lean back to take in the chess set you’ve created. They snort and you keep your face impassive. You are only capable of one color of construct, but you’ve differentiated between the two sides. It is still, in the end, a valid question. No matter the actual color of the pieces, the positions of the king and queen depend on the color they choose.

“Here,” they say, leaning forward, and the board washes out in black and white. You raise an eyebrow at the application of psi. They pick up a piece from the slender set, and it fades to white, the other, black.

They glance at you for approval and you nod. The upkeep of their psi puts some mental strain on them- it would be interesting to see how well they perform while maintaining the color.

“Good practice,” you say. “Shall we?”

–

The first game is a disaster. Daginy’s defenses fold like wet paper under your assault and it’s not long before-

“Mate in one.”

It’s almost disappointing how easy it is. You remind yourself that it’s only natural. This is their first game after their rehabilitation and their grasp on the rules is shaky.

They look up at you, squinting suspiciously. You quirk up an eyebrow in response. Would they find it?They glare back at the board, biting their lip, thinking about their next move.

They don’t see it. It’s a poor showing on their part, as they nudge their rook out of the way. Too focused on unnecessary pieces while the real danger went unnoticed. It’s a far cry from the strategies they used in the field, not that those had saved them either.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

They shake their head.

“No,” they say. “But go anyway.”

At least they’re aware of their own shortcomings, if somewhat lacking the patience to follow through. You pick up your queen and place it next to their king. 

“Checkmate,” you say and they gasp.

“No!” they exclaim, picking their king and tapping the top of your queen. “I can still-”

“Look closer,” you say, and they lean forward to squint at the board. You won’t explain it– let them figure it out on their own. It doesn’t take them long. They throw up their hands with a groan, then leans back over the board, determined.

“Again,” they insist, staring up at you, their eyes alight. It’s a softer version, but you’re reminded of the look in their eye when they begged you for death. It was darker, they were dirtier and more desperate then. You shake away the thought and smile for them. You have acknowledge their tenacity.

You change out the pieces.

“Black or white?” you ask.   
  
They don’t even speak, simply drain the color from the pieces and bend back over the board.

–

Three games later, they’ve improved massively. They’re not as good as you yet, no, but they were holding their own. You’re more than a little impressed.

Their opening game is still a little weak, but they’re responding to your attacks with surprising effectiveness. They’ve initiated a queen trade, picking up their queen, reaching for yours when they squints back up at you.

“Are you going easy on me?” they demand, frowning, as they replace your queen with theirs.

It’s as if they don’t believe their own progress. You still need to work with them on their self doubt, it seems.  You twist your lips into a wry smile and shake your head to assure them.

“I don’t go easy,” you reply, moving your knight forward to take their queen in turn. And you really aren’t. “Make your move.”

The game goes on much longer this time. You sweep the board of their pieces, but they make you fight for every single one, up until they have just a knight to accompany their king.

You chase them into a corner and when you checkmate, and they actually pout. You chuckle and they beam back at you.

How old were they again? Your files say they’ve only just hit their ninth sweep two perigees ago. They seem both older and younger to you.

“You’ve been improving quickly,” you say. “Perhaps you will one of these games you will beat me.”

“Again,” they say, with an eager nod.

“Black or white?” you say, and settle in for another game.

-

The board has been locked down. Daginy took the center of the board, and defended everything to entanglement.

“You play too defensively,” you say. “You need to make sacrifices.”

That had been a strategic fault of theirs when they were on the run. When it came down to the line, they would hold onto their allies tightly, beyond strategic reason. It lead to long and frustrating battles that tied everyone up. You suppose you disliked Pyrrhic victories, but when battles were fought like that, the Magpies would lose just about everything until you spent your end game chasing one little bird into a corner.

“Yeah,” they say,  hunched over at the end of the board, chewing on their fingernail.

They make their move. It opens up the game, but their defenses crumple easily enough after that. After you checkmate them again, they stare at the board, looking somewhat incensed.

“Again,” they say, still curled up, and you have to shake your head and chuckle.

“I am sorry, Daginy,” you says and dissolve the board. “I believe I’m out of time. I must get back to work.”

They lost every single game. However, watching them play was like watching them evolve. They improved immensely with every match.

“We’ll play more the next time I visit,” you promise. “You’re improving very quickly.”

“I had fun,” they say with a nod.

When you leave, you see them conjure themselves a board with their own psi, apparently not satisfied with nearly two hours of losing at chess.

You shake your head. Their tenacity  _was_  one of the things you had admired about them. You’re glad it wasn’t wiped away during their rehabilitation.

–

You move your knight up, forcing the queen into a fork with the rook- a good move. It puts a lot of pressure on their left flank, and forces at least the rook off the board.

They don’t respond to the fork. Instead they move their bishop across the board.

“Check,” they say. You glance up at them- their face is lit up with an enormous smile.

You look back down at the board, and- and you see it. They have checkmate in one.

“Ah,” you say, moving his king back one square. It’s a foregone conclusion; they move their rook back and take their first victory.

“Checkmate!” Daginy whoops, throwing their hands up in the air, laughing and clapping.

You feel the slow burn in your chest- the same feeling akin to when your battery receives its commendations, when Nanako and Casman take down a particularly difficult opponent, when you manage to make Tomois’ chair fall apart when he’s sitting in it. You’re  _proud_  of them.

“Congratulations,” you say, smiling, unable to resist ribbing them a little. “It only took you three days.”

They gasp, and laugh, delightedly. It’s the happiest you’ve ever seen them and it’s hard not to get caught up into it.

They lean across the board and snag your king, shaking it at you.

“I’ll beat you again,” they challenge you. “This? This is mine.”

The king disappears from their hand with the breath of a thought, but you barely have a chance to blink before it reappears. It takes you a second- it’s not real, it’s their illusion, and you’re impressed all over again.

They wiggle their illusion at you, stifling giggles with their other hand. “Nice try,” they say, laughing.

In three days they’ve gone from barely remembering how the pieces move to beating you cleanly, and keeping up their psi on 32 individual pieces. It only proves how formidable they really are, and you’re truly proud of them. You’re sure when they’re done with their training they will be incredibly effective on the field. It was all the more reason to make sure they never turned again. 

You reset the board, smiling.

“I see you relish your victories,” you say, with a raise of your eyebrow. “Let us see if you can claim another one.”

“Black or white?” they ask, grinning.


	6. Triggers and Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More threads

In the weeks you’ve spent in training, you’ve gotten more sure of yourself, feeling stronger as time went on, less likely to hover right behind Vadaya like a little brown shadow. 

You’ve also found that you really don’t like some really random things. Being so jumpy and flinchy is one thing, but you really hate soup, for example. Specifically tomato soup- that you can’t even smell it without needing to throw up. Wood smoke too, gives you minor shakes and makes you really irritable for no reason. And you hate hate hate the texture of rice. 

If you could meet yourself from back when you were a rebel, you’d have a lot of questions for them, the first one being, “what the heck?” 

But you were progressing, and progressing well. Vadaya would not stop telling you about it, so you can’t help but believe it. 

When it comes to combat training, he’s found you a sparring partner, another recruit, one two sweeps younger than you. Taccun’s a cocksure little redblood whose already been in training for half a sweep. He’s prone to rolling his eyes at you when you flinch, but is otherwise patient with your hang ups, especially when Vadaya was there. 

You bounce nervously on the mat on the balls of your feet, dressed in exercise sweats and t-shirt, your forearms, where most your scars are, are wrapped up with bandages to stabilize any punches you throw. You glance over at Taccun, who is standing there with his arms behind his head, easily, his feet a shoulder’s width apart. 

“What are we doing?” you ask.

> It was amazing what progress a few weeks could bring to a troll. Daginy had really started to come in to their own in a lot of ways, no longer content to just tag along silently in your wake. They’d healed well with the proper care and a filling diet had helped build their strength.
> 
> As long as the wrong thing wasn’t on the menu, at least. It was a little odd, having to take a second to wonder if the next new meal will have them gagging or shaking. But you couldn’t blame them, they didn’t even get to know their triggers until they were looking them in the face.
> 
> You had hopes that building their confidence in themselves might help with the fears. At the very least they seemed happier now, a bit more sure of themselves with your guidance. They did well when they had finally recovered enough to begin training, rebuilding their strength and probably starting to go beyond it now.
> 
> The wonders that training paired with as much food as they could eat could make.
> 
> You’d felt you had to bring in another recruit when it had some time to begin combat training. Daginy was support, their psionics and natural strength would never have them out on the front lines. But they still had to know how to fight, to defend themselves if they needed to.
> 
> You’d picked out another troll that you thought wouldn’t be too intimidating for Daginy to face and so far you were right. Taccun is younger as well as lowerblooded, trained enough to know what he was doing without outclassing Daginy so far that they felt discouraged.
> 
> It was good for them to be able to talk to someone other than you from time to time anyways. A wide-eyed recruit was a good pick in your book. You watch them as they complete their warm ups, standing beside the mat to play referee. Daginy had been catching on to the basics so far, but you thought it was time to pick things up a knotch.
> 
> “Tonight, we will be practicing grapples. Or more accurately, how to get out of a hold if you find yourself in one. Do you understand, Daginy?” You gave them the ghost of a smile, raising a hand to gesture to Taccun. “He knows some holds. Your task will be to try and escape.”

You keep bouncing as you nod, trying to get rid of some of your nervous energy. You liked the conditioning part of combat training well enough. You liked the feeling of getting stronger, more in control of your body.

The combat part of combat training you liked less. Vadaya worked you up to it carefully, starting you off with hitting and holding pads, but every hit you took you’d flinch and resist the urge to run.

“How do I do that?” you ask nervously.

“Relax dude,” Taccun says. “Imma walk you through the hold and show you how it works. Then we talk you through breaking it. Right?”

He glances over at Vadaya for approval.

“Stick your arm out like you’re gonna punch.”

You do, somewhat nervously. It’s okay, you tell yourself. Nothing bad was going to happen with Vadaya on watch.

Taccun takes your wrist, and twists it, and presses down on your elbow. You feel your body pulled along into his flow until you find yourself looking at the ceiling, your arm pulled up against his shoulder and immobile, his knee on your chest.

“See,” Taccun says sounding far away, as a phantom hand traces your cheek. You pull against the hold but your arms are bound up over your head. Someone sits above you, pressing down and you watch, unable to close your eyes as silver scissors carefully, methodically, painfully, carve your eye out.

You’re screaming, you realize- and you’re free, you can move– you lurch away from her- him? Desperate to get away out of the dimly- brightly lit room, you stumble in any direction hit the tile– the mat floor and throw up. Two eyes, you still have two eyes it didn’t happen it– you grab your right eye, curling up on the mat. It’s robotic.

You did lose the eye.

“It wasn’t me,” Taccun says. “Not my fault.”

> Daginy is all jitters, but you let it go. You’ve been lax on them so far, letting them get away with things that would have gotten you punished in your recruit sweeps. Your instructor had always been a stern woman who had believed that soldiers should await orders at attention, only moving when ordered.
> 
> But thinking back on how your training had been, you knew that wouldn’t work for Daginy. It would break them long before it gave the Empire another weapon.
> 
> It’d been a slow process even getting them this far. They could hit pads, but you wondered how well they would transition from hitting fabric to hitting flesh. And their flinching, the freeze followed by that flight instinct. You’d known that they had never really been a fighter- they had ran, and ran until they couldn’t anymore.
> 
> So many scars for a troll who didn’t fight.
> 
> Taccun looks to you for approval and you give him a nod, arms crossed as you watch. It goes easy enough, at the beginning. Taccun isn’t overly forceful, for all that he rolls his eyes when Daginy gets too flinchy. But then he knows better than to hassle him with you right there anyways.
> 
> But then Daginy goes down and the screaming starts. Taccun releases them and they start to try to flee, the panic setting in and forcing their meal back out of them. You squashed the disappointment that tried to rise as you moved across the mat, shaking your head at Taccun’s protests.
> 
> “I know Taccun. Dismissed.” You kept your voice soft, moving to crouch by Daginy. You’re still unsure of how well they react to being touched in these moments when their fear overcomes them, but this seems different. Worse. And the way they’re clinging at their eye again concerns you.
> 
> “Daginy. Can you hear me? Listen to my voice. You’re having one of your attacks, but you are safe. No one is going to harm you, I know what you are feeling scares you.” You speak to them low, calm. It’s all you can do for them, unless you wanted to start sedating them. And that wouldn’t help them overcome anything.
> 
> “Focus on your breathing for me. Deep breaths, stay in the present Daginy.” You’re thankful that you don’t bring them to train when there are other groups of recruits practicing. It’s at least quiet except for the sound of your voice, though far too big for them to probably feel safe. But you kept your focus on them, brows furrowed.

Someone’s talking to you, and you glance over, shaking. A big indigo speaking softly, familiar, but confusing as you try and cope with your surroundings, your thinkpan expecting things your eyes don’t see.

You’re confused, you’re not tied down, you’re not in pain, you’ve got two eyes except not– and someone is telling you to take deep breaths and that you’re safe and it takes you several moments too many to recognize the indigo as Vadaya.

“I-I-” you uncurl slightly, reaching out a hand and placing it, shaking, on the mat. Vadaya is safe, you think, your entire world knocked askew, unsure of absolutely anything, but at least he’s here.

You duck your head back down and sob. You can’t put it into words, the confusion and fear from lingering memories still overwhelming. You were bound, you’re sure, and you pull the wrappings off your wrist with shaking fingers.

There’s a thin scar around your wrists- you knew it was there, you knew it probably had something to do with restraints- but their presence is just another confirmation of your vision.

You look back over at Vadaya and reach for him, grabbing the edge of his sleeve and tugging.

> They look at you, but they might as well be seeing right through you then. Still wrapped up in whatever daymare that being pinned had stirred up, helpless against it.
> 
> Finally there’s a hint of recognition as it fades enough for them to start to grasp at reality again. They’re still shaking, their attempts at speaking failing and giving way to sobbing. You don’t understand why they’re tugging at the bindings on their wrists, but the way they look at the scars lets you know it has something to do with this latest meltdown.
> 
> They’re scared, and panicking, and reaching for you like you can fix it.
> 
> You liked supporting those you cared for. But your Battery were all strong, competent trolls for the most part. You could be a willing ear for them, a second opinion. Someone for them to lean on briefly while they got their feet back under them.
> 
> But Daginy didn’t even remember how to stand. Every time they tried, a new hurdle seemed to rise to knock them back down. A new phantom of their past, another piece that made you wonder how it was they managed before. You could only try to learn how best to help and hope that what you did was enough. It was at least enough that they sought your comfort.
> 
> “That is it, Daginy. You are here with me, in the training room. You are not being harmed nor will you be.” You shift your hand to tap their palm, offering it up to them to cling to instead if they wanted. “Do you need to talk about it?”

You grab his hand when he offers it, hanging onto it tightly, letting it ground you.

The training room- you’re in the training room and no one’s going to hurt you. Vadaya’s the only one here and he’s not going to hurt you.

But you’re starting to realize what happened. Getting pinned reminded you of how you lost your eye. You had been tied up, pinned down- you whimper at the thought, clutching Vadaya’s hand- and your eye removed by someone you can’t even remember- you only have the brief impression of a blurry white face.

You lose your breath again, terrified that this could even happen to you. The docterrorists had told you that since the incisions were clean and there was no additional damage to the socket that the procedure was most likely medical– but this was not medical. You knew bad things happened to you, but reliving them was completely different.

Vadaya asks you if you need to talk and you’re instantly conflicted. The knowledge you remembered burns white hot in your throat and you’re afraid it might tear you up on the inside if you don’t let it out. On the other hand, you’re not supposed to remember anything from the past- what if they took your memories again?

You look over at Vadaya, your commander, your friend, whose looking at you so worriedly, trying to comfort you and holding out his hand. He says he doesn’t know what happened to your eye- if he did know, if he did know someone had pried it from your head- would he have told you?

If he didn’t- he would want to know, you think.

“I-” you start, hesitant. If he didn’t want to know, this is how you find out. “I re-remembered h-how I lost-” you gasp, shaking- “lost m-my eye.”

> It’s like it was the first night all over again. Daginy clinging to your hand like if they let it go, they’d be whipped away in to the maelstrom of their own mind. Only worse now, as they whimpered and clutched at you harder, not weakened by their rehabilitation and healing.
> 
> Their breath goes ragged again and you try your best to make a soothing sound against the new wave of fear. “You need to breathe Daginy. It can not hurt you, whatever it is your mind is trying to show you.” You were hesitant to call them memories, wary of just confusing them. They knew they weren’t supposed to have memories after all, the last thing they needed was worrying about you thinking they were broken.
> 
> Still, you needed to pry. You needed to know what it was that was causing such a violent reaction now. Rehabiliation was never a perfect process, if it was you wouldn’t need to worry about watching over them. But part of you just wanted to know what it was so you could help. You did have a heart after all, you could not help that part of you was genuinely concerned over the troll you had spent so much time with. Just as you couldn’t help being proud of them for their progress, for their victories.
> 
> They saw you as safety, but you think they saw you as more than just a large body to put between them and danger.
> 
> Your brows raise when they admit what they remember, momentary shock. You certainly had no idea what had happened to it, only what the mediculler reports said about it. It had been so neat, it didn’t occur to you that it was anything but a needed procedure. But they wouldn’t be this worked up over a surgery, would they?
> 
> “You are shaking, Daginy. Do you wish to take a moment before you talk about this?” You were curious about the story they had to tell, but you could take your time in getting them from it. Especially if it cost them more threads of a pretty unraveled mind.

His eyebrows fly up in shock and he gently offers you a moment and you break down again, sobbing. It’s an impulse and you don’t think about it, but you pull yourself towards Vadaya and lean against him, resting your forehead on his knee.

You stay there, curled up, until terror ebbs into a more manageable fear, hiccuping softly as the tears subside. You wipe your face and pull away, taking your hand back and clutching your elbows.

“I don’t- I don’t know w-why,” you whisper, rubbing your wrists. “Someone t-tied me down a-and- I couldn’t move at all– there w-was scissors, and, and I was awake, that’s not a medical thing, right? If they made sure I was awake?”

There’s still the thought that you’re totally just going crazy. You’re not supposed to remember anything- what if your thinkpan was just making things up to put together what fragmented pieces of your memory into something coherent?

But it did match up to the scars, and it seemed so real– you can feel the tape across your face to keep you from biting the hand that held down your head, the ache of restrained shoulders and chafing wrists, the stifling terror of complete and utter helplessness in the face of an unstoppable hostile force.

You couldn’t have made that up, right?

> The sobs come again, working themselves free from Daginy’s form at your words once more. You don’t enjoy the sound, the fear in it. You never enjoyed having someone cry in front of you. Fear was a part of your career, but you took no joy in it.
> 
> It was so much easier when it was a rebel, a name and a face on a paper given to you to eliminate. When you were acting as a weapon. But having someone you had spent your time getting to know breaking down, the heat of their head against your leg as they cried in fear of a past they shouldn’t have remembered… You weren’t really sure what words you could use for your feelings.
> 
> You felt bad for them, even as another part of you whispered that this was a major breach in the rehabiliation. They shouldn’t be remembering.
> 
> But they did. And as they pulled away from you, they told you. Tied down conscious, unable to fight as someone removed a vital piece of them with scissors. Someone who obviously knew what they were doing with it, to be so neat with it. Torture, though you didn’t know the reasons behind it.
> 
> “No Daginy. A mediculler would have made sure you were sedated.” You didn’t know what to say to them. Of course you knew they were tortured, even before they fell in to your hands. The amount of damage done to them when they didn’t fight made it clear enough. But it wasn’t the same, knowing versus having Daginy stutter through the memory, voice hushed.
> 
> “I am sorry, Daginy. Truly I am.” You didn’t know what the procedure for something like this was. Part of you wanted to pry, to find out what else they remembered. To know if you needed to put the image of them crying against your leg behind you and eliminate them. But part of you wasn’t that much older than them, a troll that felt connected to another that was suffering.
> 
> You were  _conflicted._

You shiver, clutching your shoulders, putting a hand over your mouth as you try to make sense of what you had remembered. You’re glad Vadaya doesn’t even hint at doubting you, that he made sense of your scattered words. He looks lost, almost, his brow wrinkling in concern but you don’t want to think about that. You look back down at the ground, clutching your arms.

“Why would someone d-do that to me?” you whisper. “Did I do something to d-deserve it?” 

You look at your arms, think of the rest of your scars– how many of them were put there by someone who intended you nothing but harm? How many times did someone put their hands on you and force you to suffer without a chance of resistance? Suddenly you understand better your fear from the first night. 

“Vadaya,” you whisper, on the edge of begging. “Are you going to have them take my memories again? I don’t- I don’t want to forget.” 

You take a shuddering sob, burying your head again. It’d be easier, in the end, to forget, but it wouldn’t clear away the scars, it wouldn’t give you your eye back, you would still be a person who had their eye stolen, only you wouldn’t know anything about it, walking the world like a fool who didn’t know what people could do to you. 

> Having them sitting up isn’t much better than having them on the ground. They can’t stop themselves from holding on to something, even if it’s themself. They’re still shivering, even if it isn’t quite the same shaking that they had been doing before.
> 
> They look at you and then it’s back to the floor as they ask you  _why._ You know why, or at least you have a good idea of it. They had dealt in information, their whole little operation. Someone had snared a bird in their net and had set to work on them. Other Imperials, wanting information on their network maybe. Other illegal elements even. They had no doubt crossed paths with all sorts of unsavory characters.
> 
> Trolls who would do what they felt they had to to extract information. But did they deserve it?
> 
> “I do not know, Daginy. I can not give you the answers to those questions.”
> 
> Did they deserve this fate? You drew up the memory of Zavare, how they had looked in the hospital after your last big battle against the Magpies. How hurt you had all been after that, how long it had taken to recover. The surgeries you had had to undergo to yank out circuitry from your body that had been heated in to malfunctioning. The weeks it took to rebuild the AREMA where you had pretty much been without a working arm.
> 
> And then they spoke again, in that light whisper. An edge in their voice that reminded you of when you had finally caught them. Only pleading this time to keep a memory that caused them so much harm.
> 
> You clenched and unclenched your fist as they hid their face again, schooling your face in to careful blankness even if they weren’t looking. “No, Daginy. I will not make them take your memory away.” You couldn’t help but notice how light your own tone was, reaching to pat their leg once, comfortingly.
> 
> You tried to reason with yourself for the words. If they remembered once, what would more rehabilitation do? Even if you smothered this memory again it would scratch its way back to the surface. And sending them back might just break them completely.
> 
> One memory of the past wouldn’t turn them back to the path of rebellion. You had to believe that.

He can’t answer those questions. Of course he can’t. The only person who would know is you, and whatever memories you have of those times are trapped forever behind an impenetrable wall. You wonder if there’s still anyone out in the world that knew who you were before you got recruited. 

The desire to find them and ask about yourself though- you can’t tell Vadaya that. Your memories were still taken for a reason, and going to actively search for them would be taken as a sign that you were returning to that life. 

You thought you were a different person from rebel you, but you’re coming to see how much the two of you are tied together. You still went through all the things they did, even if you can’t remember it now. 

Vadaya promises he’s not going to have your pan wiped again and you sob again, this time in relief. He even pats you on the leg, as you bury your face in your hands and try to get yourself under control. 

“C-can I have a hug?” you manage. Vadaya was never very physically affectionate, which you appreciated, considering how much you usually disliked people touching you, but right now you could use the comfort. 

> They can’t seem to keep the sobs at bay, though this one has a different edge to it. You don’t know much about crying- you liked to think you had cried them all out a long time ago. They hadn’t helped you then after all and a soldier had no use for them.
> 
> You wondered if they helped Daginy at all. 
> 
> Clearly not enough, since they ask you for a- a hug. The question, in so frail a voice, sends you reeling far more than it should have. But trolls don’t ask you for hugs. Ever. Your battery mates might give you one here and there, in the heat of the moment- Casman, Nanako perhaps. But they were just brief moments of contact.
> 
> They weren’t on the verge of spiralling down in to the chaos of their own thoughts. They would never stumble over the request. You’d never feel like they might shatter if you turned them down.
> 
> But Daginy wasn’t your battery. They were your responsibility and they were- a troll. You had taken them on to be there to guide them, to be their support. You just hadn’t realized how that would work.
> 
> You reach out to wrap your arms around them, unable to help how stiff you were about it. But you knew how flighty there were, how small they were. You arms were weapons, painstakingly crafted to inflict harm instead of comfort. You didn’t know how much credit Daginy could give you for the attempt at the moment, but you were  _trying._

You don’t miss his hesitation. It’s long enough that you peel your hands away from your face. He doesn’t say anything, just gets to his knees and stiffly reaches out for you. 

You lean towards him to meet him, leaning your head against his shoulder, unfolding enough to wrap your arms around his back, under his arms. You grab onto the jacket of his uniform, pulling him close. 

He’s a lot bigger than you, and almost cold to the touch. His right arm is a weapon, you think, as it rests gently on your back. If he wanted to, he could snap your neck right now. 

It’s not the first time you’ve had the thought. You’re aware of how outclassed you are in every respect, and while he’s reserved around you, you’ve never forgotten how easily he could kill you. 

He hasn’t though. He’s barely raised his voice at you. You don’t have any reason to believe he would now. Something tells you hasn’t doesn’t mean wouldn’t- you were enemies at some point after all- but you’ll take what you can get. 

You close your eyes and lean into the touch. It settles something for you, some kind of desire for touch you never knew really understood. 

You can’t remember the last time you had a hug. 

The thought makes you laugh, a choking, waterlogged chuckle, and you bury your face into his shoulder and clutch him tighter. 

> You have to crouch a bit even when on your knees for them when they actually hug you back. Their hands cling tight as ever, bunched in to your jacket now instead of around your hand as they pull you in.
> 
> They’re small, and warm, and they’re still shaking aren’t they? Perhaps you were worse at this than you had been able to anticipate. But when had you ever hugged someone like this before? Maybe in the murky memories of your early wrigglerhood, before you came to the IPC.
> 
> But they’re leaning against you. Even if you’re horrible at this, you can still comfort them somewhat it seems. Their chuckle surprises you, sounding completely pathetic as they hide their face in to you.
> 
> “There you are, Daginy. It will be alright. What happened to you then will never happen again to you. You are safe here, with me.” You could at least make up for what you lacked in hugging with words. Or try. You’re their anchor now, for better or for worse, and you needed to do your duty and try and keep them grounded.
> 
> You shift so you can rub your left hand across their back in slow soothing circles, resisting the urge to shift so you could get a look at their face. This was… Fine.

You nod into his shoulder at his words, believing him desperately. As long as Vadaya would protect you, you’d be safe.

His hand runs in slow circles on your back and you settle against him, your breath evening out more. When you feel calm, mostly, you pull your face out of Vadaya’s shoulder.

There’s still a bit of a tremor, and your eyes hurt from all the crying, but you’re breathing more easily now and you haven’t felt safer since you woke up.

“Do I still have to do grappling training?” you ask unable to keep the plaintive note from your voice

> You can feel their nod against your shoulder, your body shifting as they sink further against you. The trust that you had been building with them since they had first woken up, reinforced now.
> 
> Not that they had had much of a choice but to trust you. You had been their gatekeeper, the one who gave them access to information, entertainment. Even their socialization with anyone was done with you accompanying them, there for them to hide behind.
> 
> They lifted their head and you loosened your hold on them to try and get a look at their face. They look a mess, they  _are_ a mess, but at least they don’t seem like they’re about to hyperventilate.
> 
> You almost wish you could reassure them when they sound so mournful about grappling. Tell them that they’d never have to worry about it again. You couldn’t imagine talking like that to any of your instructors as a recruit, but Daginy was a far cry from the usual.
> 
> “Not right now Daginy, no. We will bench grappling training for now, but we will retun to it. I know you are scared, but we will go slow. The purpose of this training is not to hold you down so that you can do nothing. It is to teach you how to get out of these situations. You would learn how to make it so that a troll could not pin you down and have you at their mercy.” You tried to sound soothing about it. A troll had to face their fears to overcome them, and as a Scimitar it simply wasn’t something Daginy could avoid. “But I will be there. And you will be safe.”

He looks down at you, his brow only just wrinkled with concern. On him, it’s as good as telegraphing.

You look down when he says you’re still going to have to grapple. It’s the expected answer, really, and you definitely want to be able to counter grapples.

You still shiver when he talks about trolls having you at their mercy, still a terrifying thought, and you lean your head back against his shoulder to breathe.

“It’d be less scary if I knew what my pan was going to pull on me,” you murmur.

Taccun had gone slowly that time too, but you were completely unprepared for what it had done to you. If he did the same thing again, would it be better? Would it be worse? What if they brought to the surface other, similarly terrifying feelings you can’t remember the source of.

> They don’t argue when you tell them the truth, which you’re thankful for. You know they have the potential for argument in them, their stubbornness. But they either don’t want to argue or know better than to in this situation.
> 
> It doesn’t stop them from seeking comfort out of hiding away in to you again, however. But you don’t find yourself minding too much.
> 
> “It is why we will bench it for now. Until we understand your mind a little better. We will figure out how best to guide you through it. Perhaps if you were able to see it done to another troll first. Given verbal cues on what will be happening to you. It may be a bit stressful for you, as we find out what helps.” You’re back to rubbing their back, you aren’t sure when you started. Perhaps when you realized that their breathing had a hitch to it again.
> 
> “Knowledge is a valuable weapon against fear. And when you have the ability to break yourself from holds, you will not need to worry about them. It will just be the road to get there that we must handle.”

You think the process he outlines for you might work out better, and you nod.

“I think- I think that might work out better, yeah,” you say.

It’s true. Knowledge is a weapon and you see it every day around you, where everyone has the advantage on you, no matter how much you’ve read, because you’ve lost 9 sweeps of memory. You’ve never been more frustrated by its loss.

You stay, leaning against him as he rubs your back, taking deep breaths. You really appreciate it- you know it can’t be comfortable for him, but you can imagine what it’d be like if Vadaya had gotten up and left you alone or if he forced you to get to your feet and continue.

You’re glad you could tell him what happened and that you can be here like this now, and you honestly don’t want to let go.

You give yourself a few more moments before you pull away, letting go of his jacket and leaning back on your feet.

“Thanks,” you say, glancing up at him. It’s always embarrassing, retrospectively, to look back at a freak out for no good reason that leaves you shaking in a corner. You wonder if you’re really worth it.

> They nod against you and you feel something in you relax a little bit at the knowledge that you have somewhat of a plan for how to deal with this latest hurdle.
> 
> “Good. And we will wait to try it. There are other things we will fill your time with, plenty you must still learn.” You mean for it to be comforting, to let them know they could put it to bed for now and focus on other things. 
> 
> You found most of what you were saying to Daginy was either comforting or praise, trying to build them up or to maintain what structure you have given them.
> 
> They take a while longer before they finally pull away, surprising you by thanking you again. “Of course, Daginy. I am here to help you, in whatever way you need.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. And you  _did_ want to help. You wanted to see your duty out to the end.
> 
> And some of you just actually wanted to see Daginy not be scared. 
> 
> You rose slowly to your feet, offering them a hand up. “I do not not believe we should continue training for tonight. If you are alright with having a night free of it.” They had the areas they were allowed to roam when you weren’t around, the wing of the bureau meant for recruits. You doubted they were making too many friends in it though.
> 
> You knew how being different could turn a troll in to a pariah.

You nod again, accepting his hand and pulling yourself up to your feet. 

You don’t think its a good idea to continue training either. You’re a lot calmer now yes, but there’s still a tremor, the feeling of empty exhaustion that always happened after a freak out. You’re not even sure you can focus well enough to read anything more informative than a pamphlet. 

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll find something to do.” 

You’d probably end up wandering the recruit wing, not talking to anybody and eavesdropping on conversations. You tended to fade into the background. You were too nervous to start conversations, and most the people who tried to start them with you got put off by either your unwillingness or inability to answer questions or your silence or your tendency to flinch if someone so much raised a hand too fast or the fact you were nearly always with Vadaya. 

Many of the recruits were at least a sweep or two younger than you, and they gossiped a lot. They’d talk about how much they hated one trainer, or were excited with an upcoming exercise, who had crushes on who, and general conversations you just weren’t a part of. Taccun, who was at least patient with you when you were training, seemingly did not want to be burdened with you socially. You’ve heard him mock you, when he didn’t realize you were within earshot. 

You don’t blame him for not wanting to be associated with you. You stood out, with your specialized trainings, and your scars, and your silence. You were weird, and an easy target and sometimes people would pick at your perceived weaknesses. 

Ghosting around, you’d picked up quite a bit of the social picture among the recruits- which could be quite interesting- but you kept your mouth shut for the most part. 

> You weren’t expecting them to argue the idea of giving up training for the night, not after that episode. They definitely don’t look ready to run more laps anytime soon, and you’e a bit loathe to start pushing them past their limits. Not like this.
> 
> They didn’t sound too enthused, but you couldn’t fault them for it. Not only were they exhausted, but there wasn’t much for them to return to. You had the instructors keeping their eyes out, but so far there weren’t any reports of any incidents. Just the exclusion you had expected Daginy to have to face.
> 
> On one hand, you knew how isolating it was. But on the other, Daginy was still reliant on you for most of their interactions. It wasn’t always easy for you to think like that, but you knew the more they trusted you, the better.
> 
> “Perhaps a shower and a nap would help you feel more at ease.” You take a moment to check your mental clock, judging the time. “And in a few hours, if you would like, we could have lunch together. If you have an appetite.”
> 
> You had a tendency to just bulk store lunches in the office. You knew your battery mates well, and their eating habits. It wasn’t a bother for you to try and provide them with a healthy meal when you could. Why not extend the offer to Daginy as well?

You nod, rewinding the wrappings. Maybe going to sleep again would help you even out the last of your nerves and exhaustion. Having fits was always so draining.

“I-” would you feel like eating then? You honestly can’t say. You’ve already lost your breakfast but the thought of eating right now still makes you feel a little queasy. On the other hand, you’d very much rather spend that time with Vadaya. “I- yes, I’d like that. Maybe we can play some chess?”

You can’t change the colors of his purple constructs anymore, since you had the inhibitor installed and turned on, a little piece of tech in the back of your neck.

Procedure, they said. Because they can’t trust you not to run, they said. You don’t understand where they’d think you’d run to.

All it does is make you feel even more vulnerable, without recourse as you try to build up your physical prowess.

> They stumbled over their answer, but you weren’t surprised that they were still a bit off-center. Especially over the idea of food. But they accepted, throwing out the offer of chess, and you could feel your expression relaxing a bit.
> 
> You enjoyed chess. And Daginy was a good opponent, showing off that keen mind on the board. It hadn’t been that often that you were able to play, no one in your Battery had ever had much interest for the game.
> 
> “Of course, Daginy. It is a plan then. Come on now, we will get you back to the dormitories.” You gesture for them to follow you, heading the short walk from the training rooms to the recruit wing.
> 
> You don’t bring them all the way in, no need to alienate them further. You get enough curious stares just setting foot in the recruit academy, though you ignore them easily enough as you turn to Daginy.
> 
> “I will expect to see you here at 13:00 then, recruit.” You had no plans on eating here after all. You knew of some tables scattered around the outside of the bureau that would do well enough, and you hoped that some fresh air might be good for Daginy.
> 
> “Dismissed.”

He dismisses you at the entrance of the recruit wing and you straighten and give him a salute. Just because you’re exhausted doesn’t mean you get to abandon protocol.

You’re closer to him, really, than your average recruit would be to an officer, and you think he probably wouldn’t mind so much if you didn’t salute, especially since you just hugged him for like ten minutes, but standing next to the recruit wing puts the politics back into your relationship. They already know he’s training you personally, they don’t need to see more of it.

You give him a nod, and turn back into the recruit ward. There aren’t so many people here at this time of night, which you really appreciate, because you’re already getting stares from the people who are there.

You keep your back straight and try not to look exhausted. Taccun had already let how flinchy you were leak into the gossip pool and you don’t need to look weaker than you already do.

You make it back to your room without incident, set your alarms, and fall into your recuperacoon.

-

You wake up before your alarms do. Sleep never does come easy to you, even with the sopor. You do feel better now though, feeling somewhat more on solid ground, and definitely hungry.

You climb out of the recuperacoon and into the ablution block to shower off the slime. You don’t like showering really. You always make sure the lights are off for it.

By the time you finish dressing, it’s about time for you to meet with Vadaya again. You pull on your jacket and make you way out front to meet him again, stepping out of the recruit wing.

> You watch them head in, just a few moments before you make your own way through the bureau. You were off active duty with your battery still missing a member, but there was always plenty that needed doing.
> 
> You’d never been fond of the more bureaucratic aspects of your position. It was a necessary evil and you were never one to  _complain,_ but you had never felt that paperwork was your calling. But you had to do more to be of use than just watch over Daginy’s progress, so you always had a desk full of papers.
> 
> But overseeing the reports of other batteries did keep you busy. It was a bit comforting to know that even when you weren’t out on the front-lines yourself there were other trolls out there. Your work was never really done, even when you succeeded in squashing a threat. Organizations like the Magpies were just one battle in a never-ending war.
> 
> * * *
> 
> You didn’t have to glance at the clock to know when it was time to set your work aside. The office you had been assigned to thankfully had a small attached kitchenette for your team, equipped with a fridge and a microwave. Not that too much of your team used it too often, you tried not to pay attention to the amount of fast food bags that passed through your doors.
> 
> But it was useful for you, fridge stocked with tupperware containers. You liked to cook, liked following recipes and creating something good. You always prepared in bulk to reheat when you needed a meal and you always made extra to share with any team member who wanted it.
> 
> It was easy enough to pull out two containers, popping them both in to the microwave and then creating a psionic bag to carry them in. You gave Casman a nod as you passed her desk, heading back for the recruit ward. You aren’t surprised that Daginy is on time, giving them a nod.
> 
> “I thought you might enjoy it if we ate outside tonight. I think you could use the change of scenery.”

Vadaya comes with purple psionic bags of food, and an offer to eat outside. You look around, to see if any of the other recruits are in earshot. 

It’s one thing to meet with a superior officer who was mentoring you. It’s another to have a casual lunch with them. 

The other recruits already wonder what the heck you’re doing there. You’re not exactly the epitome of a soldier. You don’t want to give them any reason to suspect you’re there on anything but merit. It’s hard enough to convince yourself of that, recruited based on things you did you can’t remember, when you barely stomach combat, but the other recruits were already circling, smelling blood in the water, and you don’t want to give them an opening. 

You’re aware that you have less freedom than the other recruits. It’s quite possible some of them might pass by and see you chatting casually and playing chess with Vadaya, and accuse you sucking up to him or sleeping with him when he was gone. 

It’s not even like you don’t want to eat outside. You’ve barely stepped outside since you’ve woken up. But you also don’t want to make life harder for yourself in the recruit wing, the only place you were allowed to be without supervision. 

“I- respectfully, sir,” you say quietly. “I’d prefer we eat inside.” 

You still get a little nervous every time you disagree with Vadaya, but this was obviously a pretty small matter. 

> They look around you before they answer, hesitating enough that you have to pause yourself. But of course they were concerned about this. You shouldn’t have forgotten how vicious wrigglers could be. There were rules against bullying, of course there were.
> 
> Scimitars valued unity, cohesion- you tried your best to start it young, but wrigglers would be wrigglers. Especially faced with an oddity in their ranks like Daginy. They disturbed the harmony just as you had long ago, only without the perks you had had.
> 
> They didn’t have your blood color, your surety. They didn’t even have a lusus to watch out for them.
> 
> “Of course, Daginy. We will eat in the office, then.” You gestured for them to follow, before you reconsidered. You hadn’t brought them to the office very often, and if you had you had never stayed for long. Your battery could be unnerving, but you had a feeling Casman would be gone or would leave you and your ‘pet project’ be.
> 
> You make sure that they stay close as you walk, pausing to unlock your office before you wave them inside. You take a moment to close the door before you lead the way in to the kitchenette, taking a seat at the table in the small room. “I hope you are alright with a stirfry with rice.” You slide one of the containers across the table, along with a fork and a bottle of water before you opened your own.

He pauses, and agrees without fanfare, and leads you to the office, following closely behind, keeping an eye out for gossipers as you step inside, before you make it to the kitchen.

The container he slides over to you is half full of rice and you stare down at it, hesitant. The minute you put any of it in your mouth, you’re going to spit it out, or vomit trying. Your existence sure is  _trying_. 

“I uh-” you say, pushing it away. “N-no, sorry. The uh, the rice.”

It grinds on you to waste food like this. It’s been weeks since you’ve been here- there’s plenty of food for everyone to have thirds, honestly, and you still can’t bear the idea of wasting any of it. 

It’s not like Vadaya can’t pack this container back away. You haven’t touched it. But it’s still so frustrating that you can’t know why your body reacts like this when confronted by something as simple as eating rice. You hope he has more food though- you’re still pretty hungry. 

> They stare down at the container in front of them and you’re immediately resist a sigh. Not at them, but at yourself. Right.  _Rice._ You weren’t sure what it was about certain foods that set them off, but it was useless to get frustrated at them for something they couldn’t help or even begin to understand.
> 
> You just had to try and be more aware of what it was that set them off. You wondered if it was the rice itself, or just the texture. Would they have difficulties with other soft foods like that?
> 
> “My apologies Daginy. Perhaps it was a good idea we came back here to eat.” You rise to move to the fridge, sliding your container back in to it before opening the freezer to consider their other options. Chili seemed too close to soup for you to want to offer, so that was out.
> 
> “I have pork tenderloin with potatoes, or baked teriyaki chicken with mixed vegetables. Do either of those sound alright to you?” You knew they wouldn’t eat all of what was in a container- you made meals meant to sustain yourself after all.

“The pork?” you say, propping your chin up on your hands. “I think that should be okay.” 

You watch him as he take the container and change it out from the thermal hull, vaguely irritated at yourself and your issues. Vadaya’s been more than accommodating, always doing this for you or that for you, spending, it seems, half of his time escorting you around, training you, feeding you,  _hugging_  you. 

And you’ve seen the amount of paperwork on his desk. As much as he assures you you’re doing fine, that you’re making so much progress, you can see how behind you are to even Taccun, whose still so much younger than you. 

Objectively speaking, you’re not sure how much your investment is really worth it, to take up so much of a major’s time with so little return. If they threw you out, where would you even go? Hell, they’d probably just execute you to spare you the trouble of dying in the streets. Or more likely, to keep you from going rebel again, because you’re apparently more useful on the wrong side of the law. 

You don’t really want to bring it up with Vadaya, who has been nothing but encouraging and fish for more compliments, so you school your self deprecation off your face. “How has your day been?” you ask. 

> You slip their decision out to toss in to the microwave, setting the time before you return to sit down. It will be a few minutes to heat after all, plenty of time for you to focus on other things.
> 
> Like Daginy. They didn’t seem too shaken at being faced with rice at least, you didn’t think it would bother them any to watch you eat it. You gave a soft hum to acknowledge their question, settling back in your chair as your eyes light up with your psionics.
> 
> “It has been well enough. A lot of reports to review, that is all. Were you able to get some restful sleep? You seem like you have recovered.” You raise a hand over the table, letting the image of a chessboard form in your mind and bringing it to life.
> 
> You had always been better at the big stuff than this sort of work. Perhaps because it was harder to visualize every distinct piece of something smaller, the details. But you had had sweeps of practice now to guide you. 
> 
> You were used to looking at all the purple, but Daginy wasn’t. You twisted the thickness of each square, darkening the black and thinning the white so that the table showed beneath it. It was harder with the pieces, but you formed two pawns after a moment.
> 
> The white was a thinner piece, wispy and delicate looking- you left it thin and hollow, trying to lighten it as much as possible. The black was bulky in comparison, thick with condensed energy. You let them land next to the board, gesturing towards them. “Black or white, Daginy?”

You smile, watching him construct. It’s always particular impressive, but you particularly love pieces like the chess set. It’s beautiful and complicated and frivolous, despite his practical nature, and you always feel like you’re watching something special, almost secret. 

You reach forward and take the black pawn, and wiggle it between your fingers. 

“I’ll let you start this time,” you say. 

Chess does make you feel better. It was a challenge of the mind, something you were actually good at, that you liked, a battle of the wits that Vadaya was always up for. 

“I slept okay,” you say, while you wait for him to make the first move. “No nightmares at least.” You really don’t want to think about your flashback, and your thinkpan has obliged, for once. “What kind of reports do you go through?” 

> They take black, so you focus your psionics a moment longer. It’s just a little matter of will for you to set the board, your forces looking so delicate in comparison. But you did always try your best to make the opposite sides as visually different as you could.
> 
> “I am glad to hear that the sopor has done its job for you.” You wonder if it was just from the pure emotional exhaustion, or if Daginy had just managed to get lucky. You nudge a pawn forward with a thought to start the game, taking the container of stirfry as you consider your answer.
> 
> “Mission reports from other batteries. Status updates. Requests for this or that from other bureaus or other teams.” You take a bite of food as you wait for them to move, only setting aside your meal when the microwave chimed.
> 
> You rose again to grab the new reheated meal to set on the table, out of the way of the board. “Here you are. Hopefully it is to your tastes.” You didn’t think there was anything there that might upset them. But you were trying to come to expect the unexpected when it came to Daginy.

You nod as you take the new plate of food, struck again by the oddness of someone catering to you. Aside from your particular food hang ups, you’ve found you’re not very picky at all. At the very least, you hope that you don’t suddenly hate pork and potatoes. 

“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” you say doubtfully, stabbing a piece of the food and nibbling on it. No nausea, no sudden emotional outburst, no shaking. “Yeah I’m alright.” 

“You’re really in charge of quite a lot,” you say, considering the board, and advancing a knight. “How many majors are there even in the bureau right now?”

> You don’t quite let yourself relax until they actually take a bite of food. It wasn’t like their assurance had actually had any confidence in it after all. Or that they even knew what might set them off.
> 
> Thankfully they seemed to be doing alright. You made a mental note to start making sure you had a meal prepared that you knew would be safe. ou knew Daginy ate well enough on the meals provided in the recruit wing, but the occasional meal out certainly wouldn’t harm them.
> 
> You keep your eyes on the board, weighing your options. “The Empire likes to get as much use out of me as possible. I am not on active duty now, so it means more paperwork.” You let a pawn slide forward, ghosting across the board as you took another bite of your meal.
> 
> Chewing gave you a minute to debate your answer, trying to pull up the breakdown of the Scimitar population in your mind. “In this bureau? Seven at the moment I believe, not including myself. But that number changes depending on who is leaving and who is going.”

You let yourself chew in silence for awhile, pulling your legs up under you in the chair and setting your plate on your knees, still staring at the board

Of course the Empire would try and use him as much as possible. The paperwork was an important part of the job, after all, no matter how tedious it could get. You just wonder if taking care of you is as important.

“Why aren’t you on active duty?” you ask, then put aside the rest of your thoughts for a minute to consider the board. You advance a pawn and pick your meal back up again, eating quickly.

> Right. They didn’t exactly  _remember_ what had happened to Zavare now did they? No idea about the bullet fired from their one-time ally that had destroyed Zavare’s hip beyond what the finest Empire medicine could fix completely.
> 
> It was a miracle they could walk at all. If it had been Nanako or Casman who had taken the shot they probably wouldn’t have even survived. But being a tealblood and being able to teleport had meant Zavare had been able to get to help before they had bled out.
> 
> “A member of my battery was crippled in the line of duty. They are unable to remain in active duty, so they have been given new duties.” You did your best to keep your voice bland, but there was still a hint of a frown on your lips. You knew Zavare wasn’t upset with their new position. They had settled quickly enough, thankful to be alive.
> 
> They had their matesprit by their side at all times now. All things considered, most other trolls didn’t get as happy an ending.
> 
> You abandon your meal for a moment to reach out to grab a knight, sliding it forward. “Without my battery at full force, I am stuck with paperwork. They were our support, it is more difficult to replace them.”

You look up at him, catching the slight frown at the loss of one of his battery. You feel a pang at the idea of losing someone, one that lingers long enough that you suspect you have personal experience with the matter. 

Of course you have. You were a rebel, you had been taken in- you probably had allies that didn’t survive. You don’t know why it took you so long to think of it. You put your food down and tuck your chin to your chest as the pang turns into an ache. 

You don’t even remember who you lost. 

You feel your eyes watering again, and you take a breath, bite your lip to try and keep it down. You don’t know what to do about this. You don’t want to keep getting interrupted by the ghosts of your past, but you’re suddenly grieving, two times over, once for the people you’ve lost, and once for your ability to remember anything about them. 

You lose the battle to keep from crying, tears leaking from the corner of your eyes when you move forward another pawn. You wipe them from your face, glancing up at Vadaya to see if he’s noticed. You don’t trust your voice not to shake, so you just put your chin on your knees and wait for Vadaya’s next move. 

> You were so wrapped up in your own thoughts that you didn’t immediately realize that Daginy had drawn themselves up. Zavare was still a touchy subject for you, as well as the state of your battery. It was hard not to dwell on it when you caught yourself thinking about it.
> 
> Your battery needed a fourth troll again. Without it, your battery operated like a troll missing a limb. Your batterymates still got sent on solo missions, requests for just a single troll to help with things like security or a little extra muscle power. But a battery’s main purpose was to work together to be sent out on the front lines.
> 
> Part of you feared that the bureau would decide to dissolve your battery, unable to find another troll that would slot in well. It could happen after all, had happened to other batteries if it was easier to divide the remaining members in to other fractured teams.
> 
> You didn’t want to lose Casman or Nanako.
> 
> The hitch of their breath pulled you from your thoughts, eyes lifting to watch Daginy wipe their face. They look to you, obviously hoping that their tears had slipped past you. Why were they crying again? Had they remembered something else?
> 
> “Are you alright Daginy?” You take on of their pawns with a bishop, carefully setting your food aside to watch them. Had that one memory just been the first rocks clattering down the mountainside, the warning of a coming landslide?
> 
> You didn’t know what could be done, if they started remembering everything.

He does notice, dang it, and sets aside his food to attend to you. You wipe your face again with a sniffle, glancing back up at him.

He moves his bishop up front, taking a pawn and you advance your knight to threaten him off without really surveying the board, focused on how you’re going to explain yourself this time.

You don’t think this last wave of emotion is cullworthy, you hope, and you hope Vadaya thinks so too, because you don’t have a better lie for why you burst into sudden tears in the middle of a game. And if you tried to lie, he’d think you were trying to hide something. You just hope he doesn’t think you’re lying now.

“I- ah,” you look back down. “I’m fine, I just-” you glance back up at him, hesitant. “I- I lost people too, didn’t I?”

The words bring another set of tears you your eyes, and you bury your face in your knees.

“This- this is dumb,” you mumble, between soft little sobs. “I d-don’t even remember who they are.”

It’s salt in the wound, really, not a bandaid, that you can’t remember. An extra twist of agony after being stabbed, this aching sense of loss without even fond memories to fill the gap.

> They move without thinking and you immediately realize the game will probably be a wash. You consider just letting the construct vanish, but you leave it for now. You simply don’t make any moves, except to stand.
> 
> There’s a box of tissues on the counter that you move over to grab, setting them down in front of Daginy as you sit again. You imagine all this crying must be exhausting for them, or at the very least frustrating. You never imagined a troll could have so many tears in them.
> 
> And there are even more in them, a deep well that just keeps coming. You consider them before you reach over the table to put your hand on their shoulder.
> 
> You don’t want to sympathize with them on this. They had been a rebel, and those that they had lost had been rebels. Their deaths had been just, a punishment for their crimes. You tried to focus on the bodies of your own side, the pain of your augments cooking your flesh. Zavare’s injuries.
> 
> But how would you feel if you couldn’t remember Zavare at all?
> 
> “No. You do not remember who they are, but your heart remembers the loss. You were a rebel. It is a dangerous lifestyle, and those you had for companions were probably all the same. I am sure you have lost many in your life.” You frowned, wondering for a moment of who had lost Daginy.
> 
> You had hunted the Magpies as thoroughly as you could, but you knew there was no way you could have eliminated them all. You wondered how many trolls were out there that could recognize their face, even if they knew them by a different name.

You cry harder, as Vadaya brings over a box of tissues and a hand of sympathy. 

You wonder if he knows what happened to them, if he knows who they were. You wonder if you did have anyone left on the other side, if they could recognize you now. You wonder if Vadaya killed anyone you cared about.

Those questions are off-limits. You know he won’t answer, that they cross a boundary that he will not like, and quite possibly endanger your status in his good books. 

You resent him and his hand on your shoulder, all of a sudden, no matter how kind he’s been to you. You resent how much more he knows about everything, even you, how your whole life pivots around him, how a single word from him can mean your death. 

No one’s ever said it aloud, but they don’t need to. It’s not hard to figure out he’s in charge of your rehabilitation and making sure it goes well. If he sees something that’s too rebel-like, it’ll be his job to put you down. It doesn’t matter how strong you get, you’re still helpless. You can’t think about it. It hurts too much. It scares you too much.

You have to shove it all away when your tears subside, exhausted again, as you raise a head and speak an easier truth. 

“I’m getting so sick of crying all the time,” you murmur. There’s nothing you can do about anything now. You look up at Vadaya, who’s frowning sympathetically, and you feel bad for hating him, no matter how short lived it was. You take a deep breath and lean against his leg. 

> You watch them, waiting for a response that doesn’t come. They just cry and cry, like a broken faucet. Tears over trolls they didn’t, couldn’t  _ever_ remember. 
> 
> You weren’t good with grief. Of course you weren’t, it was hard to feel grief when you had so little you cared for. Grief was like tears, expended in your youth and done away with when it became clear that it was time to grow beyond it. You had lost everything once before after all. It had only paved the way to a better future.
> 
> (You had lost it all twice, but you firmly stomped that nagging whisper before it could grow worse.)
> 
> Even with Zavare it had been hard for you to grasp your sorrow. Perhaps it was because you had had so much to focus on after. You had all been so injured, you had had to put off your worry for them to take care of yourself. And then they had been so composed about it all,  _accepting._
> 
> Your other batterymates had been tough. You had had to remain even stronger for them. But if they had shed any tears, it had not been in front of you like this. Not like Daginy.
> 
> “I am sure you are,” You say, trying your best to soothe them again. They look at you again and then they’re back to leaning against you. You wonder if you should hug them again, but discard the idea immediately. They weren’t asking for that level of comfort after all.

You take another breath, and straighten again, scrubbing at your face. You really need to pull it together. Your face already feels raw from all the tears, not just from right now, but from earlier as well. 

“Sorry,” you say. “I think this might just not be my night.” 

You get up and head to the sink, turning it on and splashing water in your face. You don’t want to look like you’ve been crying, again, and you let the cool water sooth the splotches on your face. The other recruits are never going to stop talking if you come back from Vadaya’s office looking like you’ve cried your eyes out. 

You kind of want to be alone, but you’re here, with Vadaya, and you’re still pretty hungry and you don’t want to make the walk back to your room right now either. You turn around to face Vadaya again, unable to quite hold his gaze, trying to remember what you were talking about before you had another break down. 

“So.. if your teammate was support,” you say. “Are you- am I supposed to try and replace them?” 

You fiddle with the edges of your sleeves and head back to your seat, picking up your food and curling back up in your seat to eat. The chess board hasn’t changed since your move. Your emotions have been all over the place this evening and you just want to move on and have some kind of stability for once. 

> You pull back when they straighten, rubbing at their face like they could strip the tears from it if they just pushed hard enough. Their voice is still clogged with their emotions and you aren’t sure what to say to them.
> 
> You let your hand fall back to the table as you watch them move to the sink, holding your silence. You tried to put yourself in their shoes, tried to figure out what you would want in this situation. The knee-jerk reaction was nothing- you’d want silence.
> 
> Or you’d want a task to perform, a duty to throw yourself in to to combat your feelings. But you were a different beast than Daginy, weren’t you? Despite the traits you shared, you were two different sides of a coin.
> 
> They turn and they’re unable to meet your eyes again. Despite the water they still look quite the mess, eyes puffy from the latest round of tears. But they obviously want to move on from it, return to the previous conversation. You weren’t going to push them about their feelings.
> 
> “Yes. At least, that is the hope,” You say the words quietly, pausing to gather your words before you continue. “My battery needs someone who provides assistance with their psionics. Not all trolls have psionics that are suitable for the role. You could be an excellent support member of a battery, once we have finished your training.”
> 
> They resettle in their chair and you pick up your meal when they do. You focus on your food for a few quiet moments, but you still find yourself keeping an eye on them.

It does makes you feel a little better to know there’s an intended goal for you, and it’s  _not_ buddying up with the other recruits. 

You’re not sure how they’d like getting paired up with you considering your background and also your personality. Being on Vadaya’s battery would ease your mind a lot about it. You want to hear about their powers and see how yours could support them, but you’re too tired to do any real thinking. 

“What’s the rest of your battery like?” you ask instead. You really really hope that you’ll get along with them. 

You tuck your legs underneath in the chair and pick up your meal, keeping your eyes down and eating slowly. You don’t have the energy to shovel food in your mouth like you want to. The sooner you can consider this meal done, the sooner you can escape back to your own room. 

You glance at the chessboard, wondering if he still wants to play. The urge has deserted you.

> The line of questions is familiar to you, far more typical Daginy behavior. You could attribute some of it to them trying to make up for the memories they lacked, but part of you knew this was just part of who they were. They had a constant thirst for knowledge.
> 
> You were sure it had served them well before. And it would again now, as long as you made sure you knew exactly where they were pointing their curiosity.
> 
> “They are…” You trail off, a bit unsure for a moment. How did you describe your battery while making them appealing? “Very talented trolls. Casman and Nanako. Casman is a yellowblood, with a. Quick wit. She can at times be a bit overwhelming with it, but she means well.”
> 
> You weren’t used to talking about your batterymates this way, not to anyone who didn’t already know them. If people were curious, it wasn’t about their personalities. It was about performance, how well they ranked in trials, your cohesion as a team. Your functionality.
> 
> “Nanako is an oliveblood,” You say, deciding to continue on instead of musing on it any further. “She’s quite friendly. Very chatty, she likes to figure out how things works. She can be a bit impulsive at times, but I am sure you will get along well with them both.”
> 
> You notice their gaze on the board and a flicker of thought makes it disappear. “We will play later. When our minds are more focused on it.” You make the statement bland, doubting that they’ll argue you on it.

You nod when he describes his teammates, apprehensive. You’ve caught glimpses of them from a distance, but they’ve never stayed long, giving Vadaya a nod and leaving, sometimes acknowledging your presence with a glance. You hope you’ll get along. Your track record for making friends is pretty bad. The only person you’ve actually managed to have a conversation with is Vadaya. 

“I hope so too,” you murmur, and keep eating. 

You’ve never gotten far with any of your fellow recruits- anything you can say about yourself would be a lie, and there’s simply too much you don’t remember to be able to make up a believable one, and then you clam up when they start asking questions, so your peers pretty much all think you’re weird, you’re pretty sure. 

You’re relieved when he disappears the chessboard. You simply nod in agreement. You don’t think you were really going to play very well like this. The longing to be alone was growing stronger by the second, until you finally put down the tray of food, half finished. 

“Sorry Vadaya,” you say. “I think.. I think I’d rather go back to my room.” 

It’s only the middle of the night and already you want to sink into your recuperacoon and not move. 

> You don’t know how to assure them of their place in the battery. You’d yet to really sit down and talk about it with Nanako and Casman, see how many lingering feelings they had towards Daginy. They hadn’t been the ones to pull the trigger to bring down Zavare, the one who had burnt them all so horribly.
> 
> They hadn’t raised a hand in violence. Only used their psionics and ran as their allies fell. But they were still connected, had been allies with those rebels. It was an unusual circumstance that you found yourselves in, but the Empire had given their orders. All you could do was make the most of it.
> 
> You ate silently, only looking back at them at the sound of heir tray hitting the table. They wanted to go back to their room again, probably to get more rest. Probably a wise move you decide quickly after watching them. They still don’t look at all steady, perhaps a night to themselves would help them with all these emotions.
> 
> “It is alright, Daginy,” You say reassuringly, setting your own mostly finished meal down. “It has been a long night. I can understand why you might want some time on your own.” You rise from your chair, gesturing for the door.

You just nod, ready for the night to be over. You still have the twinge of anxiety for leaving behind half a plate of perfectly good food, but you put the cover back on the tray and put it back in the freezer. You could finish it later. 

You get to your feet and follow Vadaya to the door, pressing your hands against your eyes and hoping you don’t look like you’ve been crying for your trip back through the recruit wing. 

You had gotten swept up through the tides of a life that was no longer your own- but that wasn’t as true as you would have liked. You had lost a life that had taken things from you, and so you stood here with more holes than ever. Vadaya tried to help fill them, but there was only so much he could do. 

You follow him closely back to the recruit barracks, still hovering around him like he’s a lusus. You wonder what kind of lusus you had. Another mystery about yourself. When you arrive, you leave without fanfare, saying good bye with just a nod. You know what’s expected of you- you’ll be at training tomorrow, hopefully with fewer incidents. 


	7. Daginy gets bullied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BULLIES

You walk back into the recruit wing after training, ready to shower and sleep. You turn the corner towards your room, passing a couple trolls chatting in the halls when you hear a “Hey, Daginy.”

You stop, and turn slowly, wary. Your fellow recruits never seemed to like you much, and whatever they want, it probably isn’t good.

The person who spoke is Darlim, a tall brown blooded girl in the last sweep of her training, nearly as old as you. She created telekinetic creatures with limited sentience.

Near the top of her class, good scores. You honestly didn’t think she noticed you.

“I heard you screamed and threw up when you got grappled,” she says, approaching. “Hardly behavior fitting for a Scimitar, ey?”

You back away from her. Taccun spread the rumor, you’re sure. There was no explanation you could give for your odd behavior, but you don’t think giving the other recruits a chance to figure it out is a good idea.

“It’s none of your business,” you say, but you don’t even convince yourself.

Her friend is a stout olive, a head shorter than her, but still half a head taller than her. Jiriya Plumot, who always hung around Darlim. They could manipulate non-living matter like clay.

They flick their fingers at you and you flinch, taking another step backwards. They take two large steps to the right and flank you, and your back meets the hallway wall. Your eyes keep flickering down, your breathing subdued, shallow.

Jiriya clicks their tongue disapprovingly.

“That’s not very Scimitar of you either,” they say, reaching forward and grabbing your wrist.

You pull back, twisting out of their grip. You grab your own wrist, rubbing it, your eyes flickering down to the ground, your back still pressed to the wall.

“What does Major Urvata see in you?” Darlim says, reaching forward, putting a hand on your shoulder and shoving you against the wall. “You got some crazy psi that needs something special? C'mon, show us.”

“We’re friendly!” Jiriya exclaims. “So why don’t you explain a little about yourself?”

Your words get stuck in your throat, suddenly very very afraid. They’re just kids, you tell yourself. They’re not going to hurt you. But they’re both bigger than you, both don’t care for you, both want something from you.

“If we grab you, are you going to scream?” Darlim taunts, shoving you again, stepping in closer again. You’re getting closed in on, Darlim and Jiriya less than a foot away. Terror turns you stiff, like a pole that reaches up your throat and fixes you in place.

You should probably do something, but it’s like you’ve detached from your body and your thoughts are in slow motion.

Jiriya grabs you again, seizing you by the elbow and pulling you closer and wrapping their other arm around your neck. You stumble, grabbing their arm, but you don’t yell, or fight, or anything but keep your eyes down.

“Ugh, they’re not even crying,” Darlim says, and pats your face none too gently. Grabbing your chin, she moves your head around, looking at you. You don’t resist, never looking directly at her, waiting for it to end.

“It’s like they’re some creepy doll,” Jiriya says, and waves your arm around for you. They snort. “Maybe that’s what the Major wants them for. A little fuck toy, y'know?”

You were afraid of that rumor might start, but it was quite another thing to hear it come from their mouths. You can’t breathe properly, and you cling a little tighter to Jiriya’s arm.

Darlim snorts. “Nah,” she says, “Can you fucking imagine? They’re too scrawny for it.”

“No accounting for taste,” Jiriya says, their arm drawing tighter against your neck as they shrug. “Who fucking knows with indigos, after all.”

“Whatever,” Darlim says. “Let’s go, I’m bored.”  

Jiriya lets you go without warning and your legs don’t hold your weight. They laugh again, when you crumple to the ground, hunched over, clutching your neck, trying to breath normally. They didn’t choke you, they just held you, but you’re still breathing like something’s hunting you.

“Are they like, dead?” she says.

Darlim nudges you with a foot. You don’t move.

She kicks you in the stomach, sending you into the wall. It knocks the wind out of you and you curl up further, hiding your head in your arms.

“Empress, this is so pathetic!” Darlim exclaims. “Like actual facts, so pathetic it’s disgusting. Come on Jiriya.”

You listen to their footsteps fade off into the distance. Your body feels so heavy, it takes you awhile to summon up the energy to uncurl, still feeling curiously out-of-body. The hallways are empty now. Probably no one wanted to stick around and watch you get your ass kicked.

You stagger on back to your room, hyper aware of everyone that passes by you, like they can some how see your humiliation. You need to do something, or this is never going to stop.

–

You find the door to your room ajar, the lock undone. Jiriya probably made themself a key. When you push your way into the room, you’re unsurprised to find them tearing your block apart.

Your recuperacoon’s spilled, your uniforms tossed to the ground, all your cabinets flung open and searched. You have no personal affects at least. It’s not like you have mementos to care about.  

They look up at you, wild-eyed, and then charge you, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt and pressing you against the wall. If you had your psi, you would have dodged, but as it was, you were going to be pretty outclassed in combat.

If Jiriya turned your recuperacoon into a weapon, for example, you’d get hurt quite a bit. As it was, they were pressing up against you pretty hard, forcing you to tiptoe to touch the ground. You force yourself to keep your composure. You have the upper hand here, no matter what it looks like.

“Where did you put it?” they hiss in your face.

You look up at them and don’t say a word. 

“Tell me!” they growl and raise a fist to punch you. You stare them dead in the eye.

“Hit me and I’ll show Instructor Pryand the pictures you drew of her.”

They turn dead white, freezing in place, and drop you. You land on your feet this time, and dust yourself off.

“She’ll  _kill_  me,” Jiriya says. “Don’t you dare-”

You frown and raise an eyebrow. “I’m not really sure you’re in the position to be making threats,” you say. You uncaptchalogue a water bottle and take a swig.

“Okay okay,” they say, and you see a bead of green sweat trickle down your forehead. 

“What do you want? For us to leave you alone? I- I won’t bother you and- and I’ll make sure Darlim stays away, and- and-” is it bad you’re enjoying watching them struggle? “I’ll try and stop the rumors, but you know, they’re rumors, it’s not like I can- just, please please please don’t show her the pictures.”

You take another sip of your water as they sweat. You draw the moment out, considering the proposition.

“Alright,” you say, acquiescing, and Jiriya nearly collapses with relief. “But if I were you, I’d stop drawing porn of our instructors. And can you like, put my recuperacoon back?”

Jiriya hurriedly rolls your recuperacoon back upright and practically runs from your room. As soon as they’re gone you slide down the wall until you’re sitting on the floor. You take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

That went better than you expected.


	8. Surgery

> You knew what was coming when they measured your fingers.
> 
> A lab tech came and laid out a tape measure and wrote down the numbers that represented your knuckles.
> 
> They were making new fingers for you, and they were about to cut away your old ones.
> 
> You’re terrified, and you haven’t breathed a word of it, because there’s no way around it. You don’t know what happens if you don’t perform up to standards and end up in a battery. If you fail, if you fail Vadaya, if you’re useless even after everything he’s done for you, you’ll be culled and probably for good reason.
> 
> And you’ll need augmentation to keep up.
> 
> You run your thumbs over the rest of your fingers as you walk just a little behind Vadaya, to the medbay where you’ll leave two fingers short. They’re scarred, your hands, but you can’t imagine them otherwise. Scars that were the only things left from a life that shaped you.
> 
> Your breath gets tighter as you draw closer to the medbay, clutching the edges of your jacket with all of your fingers till your knuckles pale to the bone. You don’t want Vadaya to think you’re afraid, and so you put one foot in front of the other, but you’ve got a tremor, you’re so scared, you’re slowing down, you have to force yourself to put one foot in front of the other.
>
>> You know Daginy is…  _Concerned._
>> 
>> Concerned isn’t the right word for it. You were minimizing it, the way they trembled as you walked in silence. A cow to the slaughterhouse and they  _knew_ it.
>> 
>> But no. It wasn’t a slaughterhouse. They were necessary alterations that happened to every troll that progressed as far as Daginy had. It was just part of the program, modifications that needed to be done to improve their psionics. You had seen some of what they could do now, could imagine how much better they would be when they were enhanced.
>> 
>> But you weren’t sure that would comfort them now. You didn’t know what  _would,_ really. But you felt like you had to say something to them. You see the way they keep playing with their fingers, the way they struggle to breathe as the medbay looms closer.
>> 
>> If you stayed silent, you were afraid they’d have a meltdown before they could step foot over the threshold. They were slowing, dragging their feet. You stopped before they discovered what their limits for moving were, turning to offer them your hand- the flesh one, the one like they would have soon.
>> 
>> The hall was deserted for now, there weren’t any prying eyes to take note of their nerves. “Daginy,” you said, voice low and as gentle as you could consciously go. “You need to breathe. You will. Be alright. This is an accomplishment, you have advanced enough that you have been granted augmentation. I know it is intimidating, but many trolls feel the same when it is time. They all come through it alright.”
>> 
>> You still weren’t sure how best to comfort them. They were such a confusing creature.
> 
> He’s noticed- you guess it’s hard not to. He’s holding out his hand, the one you’ll be matching soon enough, and you take it, squeezing hard. He reminds you to breath, and you realize you haven’t really been, the fear and terror squeezing your wind pipe till only a thin thread of air passes. You stop walking, trying to catch your breath, closing your eyes and pressing your free hand to them.
> 
> It takes you a moment to try to work your voice again, the fear squeezing that shut too.
> 
> “I-” you stammer, “I know. I know, I’m, I’m just-”
> 
> You breathe for a moment, trying to put together the words properly together in your head, to try and explain why you’re so afraid.
> 
> “V-vadaya,” you say instead. “Were you- were you scared? When you-”
> 
> You can’t finish the sentence, but you look up at him expectantly. He knows what you mean.  
>
>> You return their grip, carefully- their hand is so small compared to your own. Delicate despite all the scars that decorate it and so warm. And trembling, even now. Their fear is almost paralyzing and you have to wonder if they’ll faint if they keep going this way.
>> 
>> Would it be kinder if they did? Passed out and just woke up once everything was completed? But then dealing with them during recovery would probably be more difficult then. You can only watch them as they struggle to regain themselves, words stilted by their panic.
>> 
>> They asked if  _you_ were scared. You could lie, but you doubted that they would find much comfort in it. And looking back on that time in your life, parting through the comfortable haze you usually tried to keep on such memories…
>> 
>> “Yes,” You tell them quietly, giving their hand a squeeze. “I was. Even knowing what was going to happen and knowing that it was an important step in my training… It was scary, the first time. Going under.” You were older now, you’d had many other operations. They were just part of the price you had to pay sometimes, to do your duty.
>> 
>> “But I survived it. The medicullers are the best at what they do, and the procedure will be over before you know it.” You had to be comforting. It was best not to mention the jarring shock that came with first having the augments. Nothing could really prepare them for the sensation, you would just have to be there with them when they first awoke to handle it.
> 
> It helps, a little to know that he was scared too– how old was he when he got his augments? But something about his explanation doesn’t quite cover your terror, and you grip his hand harder.
> 
> You don’t  _want_  augments. You want to be you, and–
> 
> “Vadaya,” you whisper, “I have so many holes in me already.”
> 
> You’re not sure how you can bear to part with more. You look down again, trembling harder at the admission, somehow feeling even more vulnerable than before. You grab your other shoulder with your other hand, hunched in on yourself, trying to make yourself stop shaking, but the prospect of losing even more of yourself– even for augmentations–
> 
> But there was no way, no way, you’d keep up without them, and there was no way you could continue on– and you did want to get stronger, you just– if you ask- if you ask, and he says no, what will you do?
>
>> You were expecting your reassurances to do more for them than they did. Your words usually carried a lot of weight for them after all- you were there to be their support as well at the model in which they should strive to mimic. A good soldier who didn’t falter, didn’t  _question_ the commands given to them by those in authority.
>> 
>> A soldier who didn’t mourn the loss of a few digits. Didn’t break down at the thought of  _holes._ And yet you didn’t find yourself getting dismayed at this setback in them.
>> 
>> You slowly move forward as they hunch in on themselves, wrapping your other arm around their shoulders. There’s a chance the unasked for embrace might spook them further, but you decide to take your chances right now.
>> 
>> “Daginy,” you say softly, trying to come up with the right words. Trying to think of what you would have wanted to hear when you were in their position. It was  _hard,_ trying to conjure up those memories. “You can not think of them as holes. You are not… Being ripped open and left bare. You are being enhanced.”
>> 
>> You aren’t sure if those are your words or the words told to you back when you had gotten your augments.
> 
> He leans over and hugs you, and you stiffen, way too aware of how he’s touching you, how much bigger he is in comparison to you, how much stronger, how his arms circle around you pulling you close and how you have no avenues of escape. 
> 
> Instead, you put your face to his shoulder, your own shaking as you sob, your other hand grabbing onto him too, clutching on hard. 
> 
> He doesn’t get it what you’re trying to say, you’re not sure why you hoped he might, because- because you’re different. You don’t think you can explain to him the gaping loss of your memory is an open wound that will never, ever, go away, or the sheer terror of losing your eye, and how he’s asking you to walk back into a room where they would saw you open and put in what they saw fit. 
> 
> You don’t know why that forgotten person took your eye, but you doubt it was for your own good. Something about your fingers struck you the same way, even though they would make place for the augments. 
> 
> Because you did- you did want to be stronger. You wanted to be useful. You just don’t want to be  _used_ , and you’re not sure what the difference is, only that there is one, and you’re not explaining it to Vadaya. It was much better that he thinks your fear is for the coming operation, not him and his hold. 
> 
> Handmaid’s mercy, you’re so confused. You like Vadaya, you trust him, and yet you think you’re still afraid of him, even though he’s given you everything. You’re making up for past crimes, but you can’t remember  _why_  you deserve this punishment, except that in itself was a punishment. How much would the Empire ask you to give before you were forgiven? 
> 
> “I know,” you mumble finally through your tears. “I know.” 
> 
> You know that it’s inevitable. If by some miracle, Vadaya granted you reprieve, the procedure would only be delayed. You won’t be able to keep up otherwise. And if you fought with yourself, to be brave enough to ask, and he said no, how much more of you would be destroyed? 
> 
> At least your tears have made your fears more manageable. You’re not shaking so much any more, and you think you’ve made your decision as your tears stop. Pulling away from Vadaya seems more feasible now, and you do, taking a deep breath as you push him gently. 
> 
> Your decision is the only decision you can make- if you go quietly or not, and when you look at it that way– well. They weren’t going to kill you. Or torture you. They’d sedate you, you really, really, hoped. Vadaya did mention going under. 
> 
> You keep your eyes on the ground and try not to think of the augments as holes. You wonder how many Vadaya has. 
>
>> When they stiffen, for a moment you wonder if they’ll lash out at you. It’s just a passing thought, more instinct than actual worry. If they did lash out, what would they do? You had sweeps more experience on them, not to mention your caste and size.
>> 
>> They’d been a threat once before. A lifetime ago, boosted by their web of support. Hidden by lies and so sure that their crimes were what was right. But now…
>> 
>> Now they were sobbing in to you, so frightened that they were clinging to you. Another of their panic attacks, but you didn’t really understand what it was that had them terrified. You knew they didn’t like the medbay, it was hard not to notice how poorly they did in there. But the idea of going under terrified them.
>> 
>> You don’t know what to say to combat this. So you say nothing, just letting them find some comfort in your presence. You knew they would cry themselves out, as they always did. Perhaps it was best that they had gotten it over with now, before anyone else was watching. They would be more docile when they were emotionally exhausted.
>> 
>> You rub their back as they mumble in to you, humming low in return. Words were a good sign, that they were coming back to themself. You could feel when their shaking started to slow as their sobs do. You don’t fight them when they push at you, dropping your arms from around them and taking a step back to allow them to finish composing themself.
>> 
>> They still don’t look well. Resigned that this was something that would happen, must happen if they wanted to continue. There was no other option for them after all. Not that didn’t lead to their death. You could only hope that once everything was over with they came to accept the enhancements.
>> 
>> A memory came to you- fingers prying at metal as if they could somehow peel it out, and you dismissed it as quickly as it came. “Come,” you instructed softly, turning to walk again. Seeing if they would follow you now.
> 
> When he backs off you’re way too relieved, hiccuping as you try to choke down whatever emotions urge you to run, to break down again, anything. You press your hands to your eyes and wipe your tears away, until you can bear to bring your hands down again, though looking up still feels impossible.
> 
> He gives you the order and you force yourself to take a step, but you still feel like your feet are dunked in concrete. You probably still look like you’ve been crying. You still desperately do not want to do this.
> 
> Some part of you wonders if you’re just being unreasonable because they’re just fingers, really- Vadaya’s whole right arm is metal. And they are replacing them, but it’s still… still removing pieces when you feel like there’s so little of you left.
> 
> You don’t want anyone to look at you. That’s the one thing that you can do something about.
> 
> You turn invisible.
> 
> “I’m coming,” you say- you don’t want to make Vadaya think you’re running– you should have probably told him first. Now that no one can see you it’s easier to breathe, raise your head, move around. “Sorry. I just… don’t want to be seen right now.”
>
>> You can hear their footsteps behind you, still slow. But they’re moving, it’s a start. You’re feeling a bit better about them, up until you glance back to an empty hallway. There’s the immediate alarm that they’re  _run,_ used your good will to try and escape from this uncomfortable situation.
>> 
>> But then they speak up, quiet but still there. Invisible, for reasons you don’t understand until they continue. Don’t really understand even then- you were the only one around. Did they want to avoid you seeing them now? It would be easier for them to run away like this.
>> 
>> But logically, you knew it was hard for them to keep up an illusion while moving. They wouldn’t be able to run silently, and if they did… Xrus had tracked them down once before. It would be easier now, with the inhibitor in their neck to locate.
>> 
>> It didn’t hurt you to offer them this trust. If they broke it, they’d only be hurting themselves.
>> 
>> “Alright,” you tell them after a moment, eyes skimming the air in search of a sign of them. “But only until we reach the medbay. Understood?”
> 
> You nod before you remember he can’t see. “Alright,” you say.
> 
> It’s more freeing than you expected, to be invisible, honestly. You walk alongside Vadaya, quietly as you can, your near silent footfalls almost echoing in the quiet hallway.
> 
> You’re fooling yourself, you know, but pretending you’re not actually walking down the hall to get your fingers removed, that you’re really just sneaking in to observe, is helping you get yourself down to the medbay, up until you reach the doors.
> 
> As promised, you remove the invisibility and find yourself stepping closer to Vadaya. There was really so much fooling you could do, and you feel more vulnerable again. It’s just nerves, you tell yourself. There’s not going to be anything wrong with.. this. 
> 
> Vadaya’s done it before. He had his entire arm turned to metal. There’s no reason for you to get so freaked out by a couple fingers. You force yourself to think only about the logic of it. It’s just an obstacle in the path forward. And you need to be able to vault it. 
> 
> “Vadaya,” you say, your pusher still residing in the pit of your stomach. “You won’t leave me, right?” 
> 
> The only thing more terrifying than the operation itself was the thought of going through it alone. 
>
>> You can’t see them, but you can still hear them- and you keep your ears trained for the sound of their quiet steps, keeping your own soft in order to pick Daginy’s out. They don’t run however, keeping close enough that you relax a tiny amount. Not enough to stop listening for their steps however.
>> 
>> You pause at the doors, expectant, and are a bit relieved when they drop their psionics without an argument. They still look a bit of a mess, still look  _scared,_ but at least you didn’t think they’d have another panic attack as soon as you entered the medbay.
>> 
>> But they were still vulnerable, and their request just proved it. “I will not leave you,” you assure quietly, mind already made up about it. The medicullers would just have to stand your presence for a bit, until Daginy was sedated at the very least. You were sure they’d prefer it to having Daginy panic on them again, they were aware how difficult they could be.
>> 
>> Daginy had been coached to seek comfort from you. You were going to do the best you could to provide it to them.
>> 
>> You push the door open for them, nodding for them to step inside. “Come on,” you instruct as softly as you can, trying to soothe an obviously skittish troll. “It will be alright. I will be with you. And I will be there when you wake up as well.”
>> 
>> You think you would have liked a familiar face there when you had first woken from sedation. You think Daginy will feel the same.
> 
> You nod, relieved he’s not just dropping you off at the medbay. You glance up at him again, wary, then step inside the medbay. You keep your fists at your sides, stiff as a board when you walk in. 
> 
> “Hello!” A mediculler stands inside, waiting with a clipboard, smiling widely. You remember him. You take a step back. He was not half this cheery the last time you saw him. “Congratulations, Daginy! It’s no small thing to make it this far in your training.” 
> 
> It also shouldn’t surprise you that he knows who you are, but it’s unnerving all the same. You smooth your sweaty palms on your pants when he gestures you to follow, glancing back at Vadaya before you follow him to a little room that looks an awful lot like the one you woke up in the first night. 
> 
> “Change into to this please,” he says and hands you a hospital gown. “There’s a curtain. Will you be staying here, sir?” He nods, addressing Vadaya. 
> 
> You… hate the medbay so much. You retreat behind the curtain, and start to change. Your hands are shaking hard enough that it’s difficult, and when you’re done, your arms and legs are bare, and you’re feeling extra, extra exposed. You gather up your uniform into a ball and hold onto it, like it can shield you a little better. You step out from behind the curtain, hunched around your little cloth ball, and return to the gurney, hesitant to climb on. 
> 
> “Hop up, little one!” he says. “I’ll go make sure OR is ready for you.” 
> 
> You take a shaky breath as the mediculler leaves and sit on the gurney, your eyes fixed to the ground. You feel curiously detached. You’re afraid, yes, but there was some part of you that felt like it might just float away on a breeze, only clinging to your body on a technicality. It was at least preferable to gut twisting fear. 
>
>> You aren’t sure what to make of the look they give you, guarded like they’re waiting for a trick. But you don’t have much time to question it before they’re through the doors, so rigid that they look like they’d shatter in to a thousand pieces if anyone dared touch them.
>> 
>> The mediculler is familiar- you recall him as being one of the ones that helped Daginy while they were still recovering, early on. Daginy seems a bit intimidated by his enthusiasm but they don’t bolt or start crying, they just stay silent as you’re both led back. You meet their glance with an encouraging nod, hand waving them forward in to the room before you followed.
>> 
>> The room is typical, you’d been in ones similar too many times for you to want to try and count. Back in to the gown for Daginy, and you turn your attention away from them as they head behind the curtain to give the mediculler a nod.
>> 
>> “Yes,” you say as you settle near the wall. “I think it will be best that I stay with them. It is what they want.” They don’t seem to want to argue it, and you’re thankful. The last thing Daginy needs is to worry about you getting kicked out right now.
>> 
>> You watch Daginy when they reappear, looking so much smaller in the gown. But then everyone looks frailer in them, don’t they? Prepared to be poked and prodded at as the medicullers saw fit. The other troll leaves after one last order, but you stay quiet until the door has shut behind them.
>> 
>> Daginy gets on the gurney without a fuss, but they’re focused on the ground. Still looking like they’re about to be put on the executioner’s block instead of a surgery table, but in their eyes you didn’t think there was much difference. “You are doing well,” you try to encourage them, unsure of what to say. Had you been this way when you were in their place? You couldn’t remember.
> 
> You glance up at Vadaya when he speaks, nodding, then looking back down. He seems like he’s a little uncomfortable, trying to comfort you. You don’t think you need comforting now, though. You can’t parse what you need right now even. 
> 
> It’s not long before the mediculler comes back, still smiling. 
> 
> “Okay, we’re all ready for you!” he says. “I’m going to need you to lay down properly. And let me take those for you.” 
> 
> He reaches for your uniform, and you instinctively clutch at it. 
> 
> “Let go,” he says firmly, yanking on it. You do, and the clothes slide from your hands. You still don’t move. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, curled up– you’re going to need to move before you get accused of being noncompliant. 
> 
> The mediculler puts your clothes to the side and clears his throat impatiently. 
> 
> Slowly, you scoot back onto the bed, glancing at Vadaya. You feel like you’re baring your throat to the wolves. It hits you that you don’t want to be sedated, which is confusing, because you were desperately hoping for it earlier– but going under means you’ll have no idea what’s happening to you, and anyone could do anything with your unconscious body. 
> 
> “Dear, we don’t have all day,” the mediculler says, putting a hand on your shoulder and pushing you gently down. You don’t resist- you can’t- you can’t fight it- but you can’t help the whimper that escapes you either, or how you clutch at the sheets with fingers you won’t have anymore. 
> 
> “Oh don’t worry sweetie,” the mediculler says, smiling down at you. “You’re going to be just fine.” 
> 
> You glance over to Vadaya, biting your lip, shaking your head very slightly. 
> 
> “Vadaya,” you say quietly, trying to find your voice. “Vadaya, please don’t go.” 
> 
> He’s about the only person you trust to look out for you. If something happens that’s not supposed to happen, you’re pretty sure he’d stop it.
>
>> Daginy doesn’t speak up, so you don’t offer them any more words. It’s not as if it’s a long wait for the both of you after all, the mediculler still bright and sunny. You wonder idly if they chose the ones to do the augments based on how chipper they can be. You suppose it’s supposed to be uplifting, but you doubt many trolls are soothed by it.
>> 
>> Daginy sure isn’t, and when they cling to their clothes you worry you’ll have to step in. You don’t like the tone the mediculler uses, the way they pull at the clothes. It makes your eyes narrow, the way they’re so impatient with Daginy when it’s clear they’re unsure about things. It wouldn’t have taken much more time to allow them to give them up of their own accord.
>> 
>> But no. They rush, even as Daginy looks to you. They’re moving, but not fast enough for the mediculler’s tastes. Their push is gentle but it still rankles at you, that he won’t stop forcing Daginy. You weren’t sure if it was out of concern for Daginy or the memories that watching this kept trying to dredge up, and you didn’t want to stop to figure it out.
>> 
>> All you can do is give them a comforting look, and try to block out their whimper. The way they clung to the gurney, their panic. It would be over for them soon, after all. They’d calm down once it was all over and they were used to their new additions. They might even thank you once they had a taste of how much better they could use their psionics.
>> 
>> You kept that in mind as they looked at you. Begged you not to leave them.
>> 
>> “I am not going anywhere Daginy,” you reassure them, reaching to put your hand over theirs, tightly wadded in to the sheet. At the same time, you gave the mediculler a look, one that told them to keep their thoughts on the matter to themselves. You didn’t want to hear them and you were sure that Daginy couldn’t take much more stress. Not like this.
> 
> You swallow as Vadaya puts his hand over yours, turning your hand palm up, to clutch at his hand. How often had you grabbed his for comfort? Too many times to count now. 
> 
> You catch the look he gives the mediculler, one that says he’s less than pleased. It only nets him an eye roll– but you feel vindicated anyway. Vadaya would protect you, in this at least. 
> 
> “Well you keep up then,” he says, busying himself, grabbing things from around the room, before standing at your head. “Careful, dear I’m raising the gurney. And well sorry, sir, you can’t go into the OR.” 
> 
> The bed rises slowly as the mediculler presses a button. 
> 
> You grab Vadaya’s hand tighter, swallowing, before you turn towards the mediculler and talk to him for the first time. “C-can he watch at least?” you ask. 
> 
> He looks over at Vadaya and shrugs. “There’s a window.” 
> 
> The gurney reaches to a comfortable waist height and the mediculler to start pushing the bed out into the hall. 
>
>> You pause as they move their hand to grab at you, some distant part of your brain realizing that this will be the last time it feels quite like this. In just a few hours they’d have hands like your own. They’d clutch at you with flesh and metal, one more step on their way to becoming a troll of use.
>> 
>> For some reason the idea wasn’t as proud like it had been a few hours ago.
>> 
>> You resisted the urge to snap at the mediculler when he rolls his eyes, long since sick of his attitude with Daginy and now you. But perhaps he was sour because of the way you dealt with the mediculler that sent Daginy in to their first panic attack. That night seemed like a lifetime ago now.
>> 
>> You make sure you’re not in the way as the bed rises, squeezing Daginy’s hand in return when they grip harder. You knew you wouldn’t be allowed in the OR, that area was for medicullers and patients. But you hadn’t really thought Daginy would still want you watching.
>> 
>> Foolish you. You knew how cautious they were still. They wanted the safety you could provide however they could get it. You’d seen worse than an operation. Done worse. You’d handle it.
>> 
>> You didn’t try to free your hand from Daginy’s as the bed started to move, simply moving with it. They were having enough taken tonight, you could spare them your comfort while they could get it.
> 
> Vadaya doesn’t let you go, which you’re so thankful for, walking alongside you as the bed rolls along down the hall. You focus on his hand in yours, his skin almost cold on yours, his own augment stiff and metallic against yours. You’d match, soon enough. 
> 
> “Alright now, we’re here,” the mediculler says, the end of the gurney bumping against a set of double doors. Two other trolls from inside pull open the doors into the operating room. “Say your goodbyes.” 
> 
> You glance over at Vadaya, your breath caught in your throat. It was time to be brave. “See you on the other side,” you whisper. 
> 
> You get pushed into the OR, sliding in neatly between tables of medical tools, and docterrorists leaning over you. It’s a flurry of activity around as medicullers tape things to your wrists and elbows. There’s a few beeps as the machinery around you start to track your vitals. 
> 
> It’s hard to breathe, so many people touching you and moving you around and doing things to you, but there’s so much going on to keep track of, you end up feeling like you’ve broken out on the other side of fear to something less potent. 
> 
> One of the medicullers stands by your side with a breathing mask. 
> 
> “This will put you right to sleep, alright?” they say, fitting it over your mouth. “Take a few deep breaths and count backwards from ten.”
> 
> Your breaths are more sharp and shallow than deep– you have to control yourself. You glance over to the window where Vadaya would be looking- you would be safe even with so many people you didn’t know around you. He’d be watching. 
> 
> Falling asleep is your only possible escape, even as torn as you are on the subject of sedation. You take a deep breath, then another. You start counting backwards. You don’t make it past five. 
> 
> —
> 
> The surgeon covers Daginy with a thin sheet and props up their hand on a little stand, picking out tools as the assistants swab it down with disinfectant. 
> 
> The mediculler from before steps out of the OR, stripping off their gloves. He gives Vadaya a look with a raised eyebrow. 
> 
> “Careful there, sir,” he says. “You’re getting too attached.” 
>
>> The walk is silent but brief- you’re not sure whether to feel thankful for that or if something longer would have been better for Daginy. Their goodbye is so soft, the look on their face so strange as you pull your hand away from theirs.
>> 
>> “Of course Daginy,” you reassure them one last time, taking a step back to allow the mediculler to push the gurney through. “See you soon.” Barring complications. Or rejection. But no, Daginy was young and healthy. They’d do fine.
>> 
>> You move towards the window as promised, watching through it as the professionals descend on Daginy like vultures. It’s all routine to them now- how many times had the surgeon done this? To how many trolls? The exact number of active psionics was hard to keep up with, but you thought back to the recruit wing.
>> 
>> You kept your face impassive as you watched them, met their eyes until the gas did its work and they went under. Their hand is so small as the surgeon lifts it. But there was no need to be concerned. Yours had been smaller.
>> 
>> The sound of the doors opening were almost a blessing, yanking you from those thoughts as you turned. You weren’t sure how you felt about the mediculler coming out to you, but your opinion soured a bit when he spoke, brow raised like he had any room to judge you or what you did.
>> 
>> “Your concern is noted,” you say, voice flat and dry. “But unneeded. I am doing my duty. As I was ordered to do.” You didn’t care for their opinion. Daginy was your mission, and you would see them become a soldier or you would see them dead.
>> 
>> You had no other options.
> 
> The mediculler shrugs.
> 
> “I’m just saying,” he says, leaning casually against the wall and folding his arms. “ You  _know_ we’re not going to cull them without your leave but you’re standing here watching a routine operation because that little piece of pale bait asked you to.” 
> 
> He gestures backwards towards the glass, tapping on it with knuckle. 
> 
> “They’re not even going to know if you stay or not,” he says. “It looks to me like they’ve got you wrapped around their little finger and I’m not sure you see it. So yeah, careful, if the rehabilitation fails-”
> 
> He drops the sentence and gives Vadaya a shrug. 
> 
> “But I’m just the mediculler,” he says. “You don’t have to listen to me, sir.” 
> 
> From behind him the surgeon makes their incisions, starting at the knuckle and cutting deep on either side of the middle finger, brown blood welling up as they peel back the skin. 
>
>> You’re getting less and less impressed with this troll with every word that comes out of their mouth. How they feel they can stand there so unprofessionally and judge you, judge  _Daginy._
>> 
>> The words pale bait sets your teeth on edge, the way they toss it out without actually knowing anything about them. But you didn’t let any of it show, face as impassive as if you were in front of a General. The way they try to warn you, like you don’t know your duty.
>> 
>> “I have seen much worse than an operation, mediculler,” you can’t quite help the chill in your voice, but you don’t try to. Not really. “And I am aware of what will happen if the rehabilitation fails. I am ready to do what needs to be done, as I always am.”
>> 
>> Your eye catches the brown that shows in the mirror, the first long cuts to flay them open. Gore has never bothered you, not since you were 4 and were taught what the insides of trolls look like, how meat is just meat no matter what hue it is. But you never played with the trolls you struck down. You tried to be as quick with their deaths as possible. You didn’t take your time because there was no joy in their pain.
>> 
>> “I am glad you remember your place,” you continue, moving your eyes back to them. Glad of how many sweeps you had to let your face remain blank, your control as you stood in front of them. “But I would recommend you keep your words to yourself in the future. Not all trolls are as understanding as I am.”
> 
> The mediculler shrugs. 
> 
> “Good luck, Major,” he says. “You’ve been real understanding about it.” And he trots off, clipboard tucked under his arm, giving Vadaya a casual salute as he backs off around the corner. 
> 
> The surgery proceeds. 
> 
> The docterrorist blots away the blood and takes a scapel to the hand, severing tendon and muscle in slow, practiced strikes, until the bone separates from the rest of the hand at the knuckle. 
> 
> The surgeon straightens, deposits the finger on a tray to the side, and starts stitching nerves to seeded biowire, setting the plating that would form the socket in which the prosthetic would sit. 
> 
> The finger itself latches into the hole designed for it, the surgery finished. Testing its function would have to wait until Daginy woke up again. The surgeon steps around their unconscious form and repeats the process with their other hand. 
> 
> When it’s done, the surgeon strips off their bloody gloves and throws them away. The assistants remove the wiring monitoring their vitals, blood is mopped up and away. The mediculler returns to roll Daginy’s gurney back to the room. 
> 
> He doesn’t talk much this time, but whistles, still seemingly immune to Vadaya’s displeasure, until they return to the original room. 
> 
> “They should be awake soon,” he says. "Would you prefer me to leave you two alone? I’m sure you understand more about what it’s like than me, considering-” he wiggles his fingers at Vadaya. 
>
>> You’re getting less and less impressed with this troll with every word that comes out of their mouth. How they feel they can stand there so unprofessionally and judge you, judge  _Daginy._
>> 
>> The words pale bait sets your teeth on edge, the way they toss it out without actually knowing anything about them. But you didn’t let any of it show, face as impassive as if you were in front of a General. The way they try to warn you, like you don’t know your duty.
>> 
>> “I have seen much worse than an operation, mediculler,” you can’t quite help the chill in your voice, but you don’t try to. Not really. “And I am aware of what will happen if the rehabilitation fails. I am ready to do what needs to be done, as I always am.”
>> 
>> Your eye catches the brown that shows in the mirror, the first long cuts to flay them open. Gore has never bothered you, not since you were 4 and were taught what the insides of trolls look like, how meat is just meat no matter what hue it is. But you never played with the trolls you struck down. You tried to be as quick with their deaths as possible. You didn’t take your time because there was no joy in their pain.
>> 
>> “I am glad you remember your place,” you continue, moving your eyes back to them. Glad of how many sweeps you had to let your face remain blank, your control as you stood in front of them. “But I would recommend you keep your words to yourself in the future. Not all trolls are as understanding as I am.”
> 
> The mediculler shrugs. 
> 
> “Good luck, Major,” he says. “You’ve been real understanding about it.” And he trots off, clipboard tucked under his arm, giving Vadaya a casual salute as he backs off around the corner. 
> 
> The surgery proceeds. 
> 
> The docterrorist blots away the blood and takes a scapel to the hand, severing tendon and muscle in slow, practiced strikes, until the bone separates from the rest of the hand at the knuckle. 
> 
> The surgeon straightens, deposits the finger on a tray to the side, and starts stitching nerves to seeded biowire, setting the plating that would form the socket in which the prosthetic would sit. 
> 
> The finger itself latches into the hole designed for it, the surgery finished. Testing its function would have to wait until Daginy woke up again. The surgeon steps around their unconscious form and repeats the process with their other hand. 
> 
> When it’s done, the surgeon strips off their bloody gloves and throws them away. The assistants remove the wiring monitoring their vitals, blood is mopped up and away. The mediculler returns to roll Daginy’s gurney back to the room. 
> 
> He doesn’t talk much this time, but whistles, still seemingly immune to Vadaya’s displeasure, until they return to the original room. 
> 
> “They should be awake soon,” he says. "Would you prefer me to leave you two alone? I’m sure you understand more about what it’s like than me, considering-” he wiggles his fingers at Vadaya. 
>
>> He talks to you like you have no control over yourself, like you’re some beast that will carve him in half simply because he has more mouth than manners. It winds something tighter in your gut, but you don’t let it show, keeping your gaze placid and your face blank. As long as you didn’t speak, you could pull off that you didn’t care.
>> 
>> You watch the explanation silently, not bothering to ask any questions. Had it been a night and a half for you? You don’t remember how long you had been observed, just that you had healed faster than the other trolls who had had their surgeries done the same night. You remember you had been considered too young to have full control over the big button laid out next to Daginy.
>> 
>> You remembered why you didn’t like remembering that night at all.
>> 
>> You gave mechanical nods to his directions, watching in silence as he filled the syringe, looking at it. You hoped you didn’t need it, but you were glad it was there. You didn’t want to have to sedate or restain Daginy, but you were aware that thye could be even more vulnerable waking up from the anesthesia than they normally were.
>> 
>> It was all professional, easy- until it was over and he was slinging words that had enough edge on them that it had your hackles raising. He was smiling, so casual, and for a moment you wanted to punch him. It was an urge you pushed down, would worry about later- would chastise yourself over. Soldiers didn’t lose control. They didn’t even think about losing control. You had to get yourself back in hand.
>> 
>> You were tired. And your night was really just beginning, if Daginy woke up the way you were expecting them to.
>> 
>> “No,” you answer flatly, the ice thawed somewhat. “I will call if you are needed.” You hoped they weren’t. You’d rather handle Daginy yourself than have to deal with this fool of a troll again. But life wasn’t about what you wanted. You would do as you were told. “Thank you.”
> 
> The mediculler nods at him.
> 
> “Good luck, Major~” he says, before sauntering out of the room. 
> 
> You don’t wake up immediately after that. It’s maybe another ten minutes before you slowly begin surfacing from unconsciousness. 
> 
> The first thing you notice is the pain– a dull sort of ache in your hands that slowly grows in intensity, the closer you get to consciousness. 
> 
> As you broach that surface, the second thing you notice is an electric arc through your pumper that forces its way up to your pan, punching open pathways you didn’t know existed, tearing open your focus, your awareness, as your psi runs screeching through- you didn’t know your psi could be in  _pain–_
> 
> Your eyes snap open and you scream, as power rushes through you with no intended outlet– you just grab and pull, pull with your psi like you’re shoving against something holding you down only with your brain– your field of vision distorts heavily, glitching as you yank pointlessly on the threads of light– you know  _you’re_ doing it, but it makes you feel like none of this is real, that you’re dreaming, that you’re going crazy, because you don’t know what’s happening to you, what was going on– you squeeze your eyes shut, choking back a sob, and try to  _remember_. 
> 
> You were going into surgery. They put you under to take your fingers off. 
> 
> You try and shift your hands but they’re bound up- (are you tied up again do they have you-) and even the slightest bit of movement has pain lancing up through your arms- and that’s not even the worst of it because there’s a  _gap_ , there’s warm metal between your pointer and ring fingers and you can’t feel  _anything there_ , because it’s gone it’s gone its goneitsgone–
> 
> The feeling of pain in your psi fades as you adjust to it, even though you feel weirdly bloated about it. At some point your screams turned to sobs as you lie there shaking, too scared to open your eyes– 
> 
> “V-vadaya,” you manage to choke out. He said he’d stay with you, and you were so scared, you were glad to have him, desperate for him to hold your still-whole hand but some part of you isn’t sure you  _want_  him to see you like this, would rather right yourself alone with no one to watch you struggle- but also you want him to be here. You want him to care about you like you suspect he doesn’t. Opening up to an empty room might destroy you, undeniable proof of how alone you are. 
>
>> They wake violently, and their shriek gets a knee-jerk reaction of alarm from your mind that makes you jerk forward. Pain, you remember the pain now- you had been treated better at your training bureau, had been hooked up and thrown in to the sopor to help dull the pain along with the IVs.
>> 
>> Had you screamed? No, you couldn’t have. Not in the sopor. You remember trying to find the surface but failing, falling back asleep.
>> 
>> You reach for the morphine button, jamming it as you look at the syringe of sedatives. They’re lashing out with your psionics, enough that you can feel your horns humming with the energy in the air. But you know they can’t harm you with them, the only danger here is them burning out.
>> 
>> You don’t reach for the syringe, but you do reach for them as their hands move. They’ve got their eyes clamped shut again, sobbing and shaking and just looking so- pathetic.
>> 
>> That’s a hard word for you to even think of. Not without some form of derision, mocking rebels for thinking that they could escape the fate the Empire had handed down to them. You weren’t around trolls in pain much, not unless you were actively putting them out of their misery or they were battery. But Daginy…
>> 
>> They were almost always in some form of pain or another. But this was different. This was pain you knew, even if the details were fogged out. Your name is ragged on their lips, seeking out your presence even if they seemed afraid to open their eyes again. You could only hope the morphine would help settle them as you reached for their shoulder, making a quiet ‘shh’ as you did to try and quiet them and alert them to you at once.
>> 
>> “I am here Daginy,” You tell them quietly as you let your hand fall on their shoulder, warm through the thin material of the gown. “I told you I would be. Try to stay still, I just gave you some pain medication. Understand?” They weren’t calm, but at least they weren’t screaming. Weren’t trying to rip at themselves, irritate their wounds. You try to tell yourself that things could be  _worse_ as you glance at their hands, looking for signs of blood.
>> 
>> The syringe was still there, a temptation. You could ask them if they wanted to be sedated. They might consider it a blessing right now.
> 
> He kept his word. Vadaya stayed. His hand is cold on your shoulder and you sob with relief, pain, fear. The fact he’s here means you’re not being tortured again (you knew you weren’t but the confirmation is such a relief). It’s too many feelings at once. Your insides are all twisted as you try and get a handle on yourself, trying to sort through your panic, your fear, your stone cold fear, when a warmth spreads from your arm to the rest of your veins. 
> 
> Pain medication. You feel yourself slip into something more boneless, even as you sob, then slow, then stop. The pain’s gone. The warmth hits your head and suddenly you feel every tense muscle in your body relax. 
> 
> “Oh,” you say. Your voice sounds light and airy in your ears. It’s almost impossible to feel upset. 
> 
> Except that you  _are_. Chasing your thoughts feels kind of like chasing flutterbugs and you  _hate it._ Suddenly, whatever it was you were worrying about seems to fade into unimportance and you have to struggle to think about what it was that seemed so important. 
> 
> “Painkillers  _suck_ ,” you mutter, opening your eyes and looking over to the hand on your shoulder, the one leading up to Vadaya. “My pan is slipping.” 
> 
> Your vision is blurry- disjointed. You try to focus for a moment, to bring back that twist of psi that you’ve been using to correct your vision, but between the morphine and the new augments, you don’t have control worth jackshit. Your vision warps completely as you try it, before you give up and let go. 
> 
> You raise a hand- it’s still wrapped up- and touch the entire thing to your face to make sure your head is still on straight, bumping the board against your forehead, then put it back against your bad eye so you can see properly. 
> 
> “What are my feelings doing?” you ask Vadaya. “They’re flutterbugs.” 
> 
> You have no idea what you’re feeling right now, only that you were upset, really really upset, between your missing fingers, the new psi in your head, the pain, and getting your hands tied down. Oh, those were your problems. It feels a lot less important now- except you  _know_  it’s important. You’re being shut out from yourself because of the medication and you are not a fan. 
> 
> You  _like_  being in control of yourself. It’s the only way you know to keep a panic attack from happening or getting worse. You’re not even sure you  _can_  have a panic attack right now, but you’d rather see it coming, if you can.
> 
> But the pain is gone. You’ll give it that. You struggle to sit up, but just moving hands like that makes them pull in ways you don’t like and you give it up.
>
>> The medication works fast- not fast enough, they still cry for far longer than you want them to. But the sobs stutter and finally stop as they sink in to the bed, some of the tension in the room tapering to a halt. You shouldn’t feel so relieved, but you do.
>> 
>> But at least they look more peaceful. As peaceful as they can at least, laying in a hospital bed after having surgery. You try to focus on the weirdness of their words instead of the tear tracks still drying on their cheeks, but you aren’t sure how successful you are in your endeavor.
>> 
>> “Painkillers are a necessary evil sometimes,” you tell them quietly, unsure of if they can even understand your words. You don’t really remember your own times when you had to be given morphine, though remembering why exactly you had been on the painkillers… Well. Repairing yourself after the last fight with the Magpies had been excruciating.
>> 
>> You clenced and unclenched the AREMA, trying not to think of what your body looked like underneath it now. You’d had to wait for the burns to heal before you had been able to rebuild it. Along with the surgeries to remove the destroyed hardware that had been implanted in to your arm. Nerve regrowth, skin grafts, it had been horrible. But at least it hadn’t crippled you forever. You were still able to be used as a tool, an instrument.
>> 
>> You shift forward when they move a hand, wishing they would just stay still. But they just lay it against their face and you’re pretty sure they’re not trying to move their fingers, so you don’t complain. They’re just trying to make sense of things now, in the stupor of the drugs. More docile at least, though unfortunately it doesn’t seem to make them sleepy like it can with others.
>> 
>> “That is just the drugs Daginy,” you explain, trying to help. You notice the way they’re shielding their bad eye, too out of it to correct their vision. You wish for a moment you knew exactly what was going on in their mind right now, if they were actually calm. Or if they were panicking and the drugs just made it so they couldn’t vocalize it anymore.
>> 
>> They don’t feel like they’re breathing hard. Their heart doesn’t seem to be pounding out of their chest. You were sure you’d have to deal with that later, but right now you were ready to welcome the break. If this could be considered a break.
>> 
>> “Don’t,” You tell them firmly when you feel them try to lift themselves under your hand, glad that the attempt is short lived. You don’t want to push them back down after all, afraid of what any action that could come off as violent could do to them. They still required some delicate handling, you had just found yourself in a new game of emotional minesweeper. And you were unsure about the new rules.
>> 
>> “Just lay back and don’t move too much, alright?” You hope that the urge to still listen to you was there under the haze, giving them a frown. You spare enough attention from them to construct yourself a chair, letting it pull in lose before you took a seat. You didn’t want to stray too far just yet. Just in case they decided to ignore you.
> 
> You don’t try to push past his hand or anything, just lie there. You’re in some kind of way,   
> The drug makes you way too warm and happy- you feel kind of like you’re floating– and it’s nice but it doesn’t feel like you.
> 
> “Well I wish it’d stop,” you complain. “I need- I need to figure out what’s happening.”
> 
> That’s right. If you don’t know what’s going on you’re pretty much doomed, except Vadaya’s here and he would help you. You don’t want to just rely on him though you want to be helpful.
> 
> He creates himself a chair to sit down. For a minute you’re distracted by the purple light, but when he sits down you gotta crane your neck a little just to look at him.
> 
> “Can I sit up?” you ask. “I want to sit up.” You could see better that way, look around the room, help you know what’s happening. You try again, briefly, before you remember that’s probably a bad idea and settle back.
> 
> “What happened to my fingers?” you ask. “Are they okay? Did the doctors throw them away?”
> 
> You want them to be okay. Maybe the doctors would use them for something else. Maybe someone who was missing two fingers could use them instead. You sure have a lot of missing parts.
> 
> “I wonder what happened to my eye,” you say. “The one that got stolen. I think maybe she ate it.”
> 
> You snort a little, finding the idea funny, in a morbid, distant kind of way.
> 
> You’re really not sure why you think that, or why you think it’s a she– it’s not like you can remember anything about it except that one moment.
> 
> It’s easier to think about under the haze of the drugs. The stifling fear isn’t more than a spark under the fluffy warm euphoria. It’s really hard to hold onto your thoughts. It takes you a moment to remember the things you just said.
> 
> “Right,” you say. “I wanna sit up. This bed moves right?”
>
>> They’re obviously a bit confused, but that’s to be expected. They’re not violent about it, or too upset- they’re complaining, but there’s not anger behind it, or fear. You think you could handle this without too much trouble.
>> 
>> You wanted to be confident at least. It helped you feel less out of your depth.
>> 
>> “You remember what happened,” you coax gently, trying to remember to be careful. “You had surgery.” You just had to keep them calm. You’d done that plenty enough already, though under much different circumstances.
>> 
>> “No,” you repeat as they ask if they can sit up, actually try moving again. You do wish they’d stop that at least, you just wanted them to lay still. At least they don’t get far, but you’re still looking at their hands again. You didn’t want to deal with that mediculler’s mouth if they managed to open their wounds.
>> 
>> They’re just as full as questions drugged as they are sober. With less filter on them, you think- the question about their fingers makes you pause, eyes lifting from their hand to their face. It wasn’t as if you had ever questioned what happened to the severed fingers, if they just tossed them in to the rest of the medical waste to rot away.
>> 
>> And then they continue, talking about their eye. That they thought it was eaten. The image alone was odd, hopefully just drug-fueled ramblings- but what if they were remembering more? They had been triggered in to remembering the event before. If the cracks in the walls holding back their memories fell, you’d have no choice. You’d have to cull them.
>> 
>> “I would not worry about your fingers,” you finally decide on for an answer, watching them. You’re glad for the morphine but it’s odd watching them speak of their lost eye without any sort of hysterics. And to bounce around from topic to topic, no care for anything. You’d have to get used to them while high, you were sure they’d be on some level of painkillers for a while yet while their hands healed and accepted the new attachments.
>> 
>> They’re still hung up on sitting up for some reason, but you decide to indulge them before they do anything foolish. The controls for the bed aren’t hard to find nor difficult- you look them over before you glance up at Daginy.
>> 
>> “Lay back and I’ll raise you up,” you order, giving them a moment to digest your words before you slowly crane the bed up.
> 
> You lie back as the bed slowly rises up.
> 
> “I’d really like for them to be okay,” you say, insistent. “No one ate them right? That’s weird. But if someone ate them they’d be used for something.”
> 
> You’re not really sure if you’d rather have someone eat your fingers or throw them away. You are pretty sure you should have a say, either way. They are your fingers, after all. And hey! Maybe you want to keep them.
> 
> “Do I want to keep them? What would I do with them?” You wonder out loud, before you’re distracted. by the fact sitting up has made your hand slip off your face.
> 
> “Oh,” you say, blinking rapidly, then trying to squeeze you bad eye shut, half your face screwing itself into a grimace. “This is really annoying.”
> 
> You spend a minute just looking around the room with one eye- it’s familiar. You remember it from before but you didn’t have painkillers like this. It’s a much better place to be when you’re hooked onto that warmth. 
> 
> You’re not sure if you’ve changed your mind about being on morphine. It’s a little  _fun_ , even, and you’re not really sure you’ve ever had this much fun before. You wouldn’t know. You can’t remember most of your life. 
> 
> It’s probably some of the most fun you’ve had you’ll be able to  _remember_ then. 
> 
> Still though, not even the morphine can make you completely relax. You know you need to be on alert, and the drug isn’t helping you do that any. It’s only through force of will you didn’t just lie back to enjoy the high, though you are being exceptionally silly. 
> 
> You distract yourself enough thinking about it that you forget to keep one eye closed, and suddenly your vision is wonky again. How the heck are you going to do this?
> 
> “Ah!” you exclaim, turning back towards Vadaya. “You can make me an eye patch! I’ll be a pirate.” 
> 
> You giggle at the thought. You’d be a pirate. You’re pretty sure pirates don’t all have one eye. That would be weird. “You don’t have to poke out your eye to be a pirate right?” you ask.
>
>> You’re not very used to trolls being silly. You’re especially not used to Daginy of all trolls being silly. They’re usually loaded to the brim with questions, but they’re always respectful. And usually nervous about it, like they think the wrong question will be the end of them.
>> 
>> It could very well be, but you didn’t like to think about that. After all, they hadn’t shown any sign of remembering. There had been that one incident with grappling practice, that was all. But would they let you know if they remembered anything else? They weren’t stupid, they knew their memories had been taken for a reason. If they knew anything else, they’d keep quiet. Or at least they would if they were sober.
>> 
>> But now, speaking of a mysterious ‘she’ who ate their eye… You truly hoped it was the drugs talking. You wonder just how much of this they’ll even remember, once they’re off the morphine. How long would they be kept on it? The mediculler had said observation for four nights, and that was probably barring any complications.
>> 
>> You don’t answer their question, but they seem to lose track of it without any input. Too busy twisting their face up, bothered by their bad eye. You’d have to get them to actually take an eye exam some night, find out just how damaged their vision was without their psionics to fix it. You wouldn’t press for an improvement- you can understand now why they are touchy about their eyes- but it could be good information to have.
>> 
>> At least they’re able to keep themself somewhat amused, because you’re suddenly feeling tired. Of this whole night- and there were no painkillers for you to help you forget all your concerns. No, they just seemed to keep building on you instead.
>> 
>> You couldn’t complain though- good soldiers didn’t. Complaining wouldn’t stop your discomfort. You shouldn’t have any discomfort to begin with. You’d had worse happen to you than this night.
>> 
>> Their exclamation brought your attention back to them, pausing as you had to think to catch what it was they had even said as they chatter at you. An eye patch. Well, it wasn’t that much of a request really. You didn’t think it would harm them any, so you gave them a nod as you cupped a hand and focused your psi.
>> 
>> It was simple- a square with two long straps to tie it in to place. “No,” you finally decide to answer them as you stand, “you don’t need to lose an eye to be a pirate. You will need to sit still for me while I put this on you. Can you do that?” You couldn’t remember ever touching their face before. Let alone touching so close to their eyes, it’d been clear early on that that was a dangerous zone. You stand over the bed with the eyepatch in hand, waiting for their permission.
>> 
>> You doubt they have enough functioning brain to really understand consent, but tonight had already erased those lines.
> 
> “Oh, I see,” you say, and immediately burst into laughter. “See? See? I see, right? It’s funny because I can’t.”
> 
> You have a bit more of a chuckle as Vadaya creates an eyepatch for you in a flash of purple light.
> 
> “It’s so pretty,” you say. “I love your stuff, Vadaya. I love it.” 
> 
> You reach out for it, but your hands are still pretty dang immobile, all wrapped up in white, and you set them (your hands) back down on the bed. 
> 
> “I think so,” you say, when you notice him waiting for you to agree, and it’s honestly the nicest possible thing. "I can sit still.“ And you do. You’re really not so afraid right now, and it’s kind of brilliant. 
> 
> “You’re  _so_ nice,” you say, looking up at him, then remembering you need to sit still, turning back forward and doing your best to sit still. “You’re like–” you struggle to find the words. “You’re like the nicest person I’ve ever met.”
> 
> Not that that says much really, considering how many people you can actually remember meeting. But people kept putting their hands on you, not always maliciously, not even consciously– sometimes it was just a shoulder pat, or someone moving you aside when you’re in the way, but Vadaya doesn’t do that. 
> 
> He’s waits till you ask, or tell him it’s okay. Vadaya’s always had your back, always given you support, never made you feel unwanted or worthless, always told you he was simply doing his job. 
> 
> “I love you,” you say plainly, riding the wave of affection. “A whooooole bunch.” 
>
>> You’re beginning to think you made an error in not sedating them. It’s a passing thought, sharp and irritated- you shove it back quickly. You were just  _tired._ Too much that you had to be alert for, too many unpleasant reminders stacked on top of having to soothe Daginy and deal with the fact that if you failed, you’d have to eliminate them.
>> 
>> You couldn’t really withdraw in to yourself to the degree that you usually did to find comfort. This wasn’t the time nor the place for taking orders, there was no mission objective other than making sure Daginy didn’t harm themselves. You just had to keep going.
>> 
>> You tsk at them absently when their hands move, mind stuck on the words they gushed. You knew they enjoyed your constructs, they always liked watching you when you were making things like your chess sets. But love? Perhaps you had to talk with the medicullers. Was the morphine dose too high for them?
>> 
>> No. You’re sure it was fine. They could still follow a conversation somewhat after all, and they weren’t in pain. You wait for them to settle before you try to put the eyepatch on, but as soon as you’re reaching they move to look at you again. TO call you  _nice._
>> 
>> You’re not nice. You were a lot of things, but pleasant was not one of them. Of course, Daginy’s opinion on what was and wasn’t nice was warped by their limited contact with others. Compared to the peers that no doubt ostracized them you were sure you could seem like a saint. “Thank you,” you finally say after a moment of hesitation, hesitation that you hated. 
>> 
>> At least they were staying still again, long enough for you to slide the patch in to place and join the strands together behind their head. You were just pulling back when they speak again, and the words make you freeze.
>> 
>> Love wasn’t a word spoken around you. Love for the Empire perhaps, but not for you. Affection had no place in your world, past a friendly touch on the shoulder. You tried to remind yourself that they weren’t in control of themselves right now. You couldn’t take any stock in words spoken by a troll who wanted to be a pirate.
>> 
>> “Are you tired Daginy?” You ask, because you refused to touch on their words. “Perhaps you should try to rest. You will feel better afterwards.”
> 
> You flinch, just a little, when the eyepatch touches your face, but you relax pretty quickly as he fastens it around your head and steps back.
> 
> “That’s better!” You say happily, looking around with your one eye. You lived, at one point, with only one eye, you’re pretty sure. It’s kind of like looking through the past, only that is, with your other eye, since your bad eye was the only one you had.
> 
> You kind of wonder how you ever managed, but you’re quickly distracted by Vadaya’s next question and you shake your head.
> 
> “I’m feeling so fine,” you say. “I feel so happy and fun and relaxed, Vadaya, and I’m not afraid.”
> 
> You nod as sagely as you can. You’re on lots of painkillers right now, and you’re like 80% sure that’s the reason you feel like this, but you’re also really really really enjoying this. It’s so freeing. You bet this is why people get addicted. 
> 
> “You know I’m afraid a lot, right?” you say. “I’m afraid sooooo much but I’m not right now and I kinda like it.”
> 
> It’s so new. You can’t recall a time you felt so happy and relaxed. You wonder if Vadaya ever feels like this. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him afraid.
> 
> “Vadaya, do you get scared?” you ask.
>
>> The flinch was expected, but it’s nothing too bad. A quick little feint away before they realize that you’re just doing what they asked you too and relax. You’ll just hope that by the time you leave for the night, they’ll have fallen asleep. It wasn’t as if you could keep the construct up from across the bureau.
>> 
>> At least they say they’re feeling happy. Is this the first time they’ve said that? Probably, your mind isn’t coming up with any other examples after all. It wasn’t as if you could blame them for not feeling too joyful. Training was hard enough for the average troll, let alone one that was rehabilitated. Especially a troll like Daginy.
>> 
>> “That’s good to hear,” you tell them as you settle again, absently clicking the fingers of your AREMA together as you look at their bandaged hands.
>> 
>> They manage to keep track of the conversation a little longer. You wonder if that’s the big dose of morphine you gave them starting to wear off a bit. Some psionics burnt through things faster than others after all, but you hadn’t looked through Daginy’s medical reports enough to know. But no, you think they’re just focused on their fear. Just as they were when sober.
>> 
>> “I know you are,” you say, watching them. “As you continue in your training and learn more, I hope that you are able to feel less afraid. Because you will have the skills and knowledge to face what it is that makes you feel fear.”
>> 
>> You weren’t expecting them to ask you about fear. It makes you pause before you can answer them. “Everyone feels fear for something. What is important is how you respond to that fear. You must control it, not let it control you.” You considered going further, delving in to the teaching that had been drilled in to  _you_ so many sweeps ago. But that was a conversation for another night.
> 
> You nod along his words.
> 
> “That sounds super smart,” you say with a sigh. Honestly you got maybe half of that. “And cool. I’m getting better right? And I’m not afraid now. Now I feel all warm and nice.”
> 
> You sit there for a moment, trying to process it, but instead you get lost in the haze of the morphine the second you lose focus.
> 
> It’s easy to drift off in the drug induced haze, floating along with the warm euphoria, but some instinct wants you grounded, and you can’t really tell what your face is doing, so you start making some, sticking out your tongue and blowing a raspberry.
> 
> Yep, that’s noise you’re making alright, and you giggle at yourself.
> 
> You look over at Vadaya and blink at him. You almost forgot he was there. You don’t want him to leave though. Nope.
> 
> “How long are you staying?” you ask. “I’m gonna be lonely when you’re gone.”
> 
> You consider that for a moment.
> 
> “I don’t know if I can be lonely if I’m on drugs,” you say, and raise a mummied hand to pat yourself on the head.
>
>> “Yes,” you say as you watch them. “You are getting better Daginy. And you will continue to get better, once you have recovered.” They’re focused on how they feel. You don’t think any of this is truly reaching them, that they’ll remember.
>> 
>> The thought is just solidified when they stick their tongue out, and the noise- well. Drugs can make a troll do some rather odd things. You certainly hoped you hadn’t been this bad.
>> 
>> “I will stay until I feel you would do best with some peace and quiet,” you tell them. “It is possible that you will not feel lonely- Daginy,” you can’t help the thread of warning in your voice as you watch them use their hands. “Put your hands down, please. You are not allowed to use them for the rest of the night.” You doubt a pat would cause too much damage, but you’d rather they just left them be completely.
>> 
>> You should distract them. And their comments on a woman eating their eye, well. It was weighing on you, a niggling doubt in your mind. You knew how well they could lie- they had had so much power built from a foundation of them. How much of that skill had carried over? Had rehabilitation worked to curb some of the impulse?
>> 
>> “Daginy,” you began, voice light as you waited for them to focus on you. “Would you ever lie to me?”
>> 
>> You didn’t like prying like this, some part of you. But it was drowned out by the more logical side that told you that you needed to  _know_ what they knew.
> 
> “Oh okay,” you say, and put your hands back down.
> 
> His question confuses you for a minute before you snort, shaking your head.
> 
> “I’m not– I’m not a  _liar_ ,” you say. “Why would I lie to you?”
> 
> You pause a moment, thinking. You don’t lie to him no you just- “I just don’t tell you everything ‘cause you won’t like it very much,” you say, your voice dropping to a whisper, near conspiratorial.
> 
> You’re still working on it, with the bullies– you don’t think Vadaya would like it very much if he knew what was happening. You don’t think he would like hearing about what your cohort is up to and you don’t want him to think you can’t handle yourself, or for him to intervene. The minute he steps in– “It’ll get worse,” you sigh.
> 
> You look over at him, your brow furrowed as you ask, “Vadaya, you don’t think I’m pathetic right?”
> 
> You really don’t want him to think that, because you think it sometimes too, and you want it not to be true.
>
>> At least they look confused instead of shocked. There’s no real upset in their face and they’re obviously in a state where hiding it would be impossible.
>> 
>> You relax a bit when they finally shake their head and ask why they would lie to you, so casual about it. Sober Daginy no doubt would have had a much different line, both of you skirting around the reasons why they might lie. The things they knew they shouldn’t know.
>> 
>> You have a feeling they might even know what would happen to them, should the rehabiliation be deemed a failure. It wasn’t that far a leap for a sharp mind.
>> 
>> They do admit that they don’t tell you everything. You sit and listen, not about to try and argue the finer points between a lie and an omission of truth with them. They don’t give you too much more to work with though, except it’s something that would get worse if you knew. Something you wouldn’t like.
>> 
>> You tighten your hand on the armrest of your chair, but make it relax when they look at you again. Asking if you think they’re pathetic. They seem more adept at throwing you curveballs when inebriated, but perhaps that was simply because they didn’t have a filter for the questions that came to their mind.
>> 
>> “You have moments of weakness,” you say, carefully working through your words in your head. “All trolls do. But you are doing better, I believe. Do you feel like you are doing better?” You could set your other line of questioning aside for a moment. You doubted they’d open up about this sort of thing again.
> 
> You consider his question, long enough to almost lose track of it. How do you explain your feeling when the words to describe it slip so easily out of you mind?
> 
> You settle for making a popping noise.
> 
> That’s me,“ you say, and make it again. "I’m better but one thing more and-”  _pop_.
> 
> You make the sound again, a couple more times, and laugh. “I’m a balloon, Vadaya,” you say, finally remembering the word, and blow another raspberry. “And now I’m deflated.”
> 
> You lean back into the pillows and giggle. You’re pretty sure you would have popped a long time ago if it wasn’t for Vadaya.
> 
> “I got one whole thing,” you say. “I got you. And you’re great and I love you and that’s great.”
> 
> A thought occurs to you, an old fear, that you don’t have the wherewithal not to ask. “Do you like me, Vadaya?” you say. “Or is it just your duty?”
> 
> You pause a moment, then giggle. “Dooooooty. Doooty,” you say. You can’t remember why that’s funny but you laugh anyway.
>
>> Clearly you’re wasting your time trying to get anything from them that makes sense. You should have known better really, that everything that came out of their mouth was the haze of drugs without actual substance. Though the woman with their eye… Well. It was hard to tell what was going on there.
>> 
>> You’re not sure what you feel when they gush over you again, other than discomfort. You were great, of course you were. You had the scores and the commendations to show your talent. But loving you was something else.
>> 
>> It was just the drugs.
>> 
>> You repeated that to yourself when they actually ask if you like them. You had been trained from a young age to put duty over passion. Over everythingin your life, to be ready to give up everything for your Empire. Your powers, your fingers, your  _arm._ Daginy was just supposed to be another mission. Nothing more.
>> 
>> But missions didn’t laugh.
>> 
>> “I think it is time you got some rest Daginy,” you say finally, standing and letting the chair disappear. “I will come and see you again tomorrow morning, to see how you are doing.” Your exhaustion was really sinking in now. This whole night had been a roller coaster of things you were better off not thinking about and you were suddenly eager to be done with it.
> 
> You pout when he stands to leave.
> 
> “Awww,” you say. “Byeeee Vadayaaaaa.”
> 
> You’re gonna miss him. You lean back in the pillows and let yourself sink into it.
> 
> It’s not long before you’re lost back into the haze of drugs again, humming happily, even as some part of you warns you’re even more vulnerable than ever.
> 
> Your eye patch disappears after awhile, and blink, bewildered, and close your eyes. It’s not long after that that you fall asleep.
> 
> Your dreams are not pleasant. They’re full of snatches of faces you can’t place, screams you think are yours, and pain, pain emanating from your hands and when you wake up, the pain doesn’t fall away with the rest of the dreams.
> 
> Right.
> 
> The button for the morphine tempts you from the side of your bed. The thought of that haze was downright seductive, but you can’t do it. You have to cut yourself off. The drug induced euphoria was the nicest thing you’ve ever felt, ever, that you can remember anyway, and if you start depending on it to handle something as simple as a little pain, well.
> 
> You need your head on your shoulders. It’s the only thing you really have going for you, and if you end up chasing those tempting highs, where you could just forget, forget like you wish you could forget, that you’ve lost everything once, that your only friend might not be your ally, forget that the label of your past still follows you now, the notions and inklings and fears that you won’t be able to bear if you acknowledged them, you want to forget your loneliness, your fear, forget everything that hurt, physically and otherwise–
> 
> Well you’d be screwed. Life was full of pain and fear. You know that. You know you’re just fooling yourself even as you take your pains and your fears and tuck them away, promising with your fingers crossed to take care of them later because they’re something else in front of you.
> 
> There’s nothing like that now but it’s almost as easy to get lost in the pain as it is the drugs. You lie there, panting, as sweat beads on your forehead, focusing on the pain, and not the fact your hands are bound down.
> 
> At least your powers are working a little better. The augments are definitely working. You distract yourself on focusing your control, folding light so you can actually see properly again.
> 
> Did you really ask Vadaya for an eyepatch? Ugh. You think you remember babbling about pirates too. You stretch your psi, making abstract shapes and colors in the air above you.
>
>> You feel much more stable the next time you enter the medbay. Much less the executioner bringing the guilty to their end, a thought you push away as quickly as it came. Daginy had been… Hesitant, but it was understandable. Nerves got the best of many trolls at times, and you knew they had problems with controlling their panic.
>> 
>> You were hoping that they would be more lucid now, but you had to force yourself to be realistic. They had a high tolerance to pain, they had to with the map of scars on their body, but when relief was only a button click away. Some trolls could fall for the trap easily. Daginy seemed like you, seemed like they wanted control, but you were trying not to assume too much about them. That could be dangerous.
>> 
>> You made your way for their room after a nod to the receptionist, giving a quick knock in warning before you slid your keycard in and opened the door. “Good evening Daginy,” you say placidly as you step inside. Your first assessment of them is that they do seem a lot more alert.
>> 
>> But it was a hard balance. Being sober meant pain- you could see it in their face, on the sweat that was coming off of them. It was a position you knew well enough after all. You’d had plenty of damage done to your body over your three sweeps in the field. Before that even, all the surgeries you had needed to keep up with your growth.
>> 
>> You were better with your augments than anyone else your age though. Even with as much as you had damaged them before the AREMA, spending more of your life with the technology than without it had given you an extra edge that most trolls did not. Wasn’t that worth all the extra time in the medbay?
>> 
>> The Empire had thought so. That was enough for you.
> 
> Vadaya enters the room, and the illusion vanishes as you’re distracted. Your control isn’t half as good as it was before. You glance over at him, trying not to move too much. You can’t help the wave of resentment that washes over you. Vadaya didn’t  _understand_. 
> 
> He was the only one in the world who gave a shit about you, and you still couldn’t explain your hesitance. You couldn’t even  _try_  to explain to him, because you were so afraid he’d refuse. You hate yourself a little for it. You hate Vadaya a little for it too. 
> 
> And now you were here, laying in a bed you had hated, missing more parts of you. You vaguely remember wondering if the surgeons ate your fingers. For a fleeting, wild moment, you wish you could eat them yourself. At least that way they’d still be  _yours_. 
> 
> Any other time, you’d be glad for his presence. He was a rock, someone to rely on. But you don’t want to talk to him. He marched you towards that operating room with only a pause for your fear. You’re  _missing_  more parts of you- you can’t think about the pieces that have been carved out from you, not without wanting to tear off something else before someone else could do it first. 
> 
> “Go away, Vadaya,” you say, turning away. “I don’t wanna talk to you.” 
> 
> You want to be alone. You’re going to have to deal with medicullers and docterrorists soon, and at least they wouldn’t ask you.. about if you lied to them. If you felt like you were doing better. 
> 
> Vadaya wanted to  _talk_. For once. 
> 
> The thought stokes an angry flame. You’ve held your tongue on so much. It’d be too much, it’d make Vadaya think you were weak, it’d make him uncomfortable, it’d just make him tell you to focus ahead and move forward, and  _now_ , when you  _absolutely do not_  want to talk, he’s here to talk. 
> 
> “ _Would you ever lie to me_?” he had asked you, when you were so high out of your mind you told him you wanted to be pirate. You remember your answers- they don’t make much sense to you now, and you doubt Vadaya understood either. So he’s here now, you think, when you’re sober.
> 
> You pointedly look at the whole room besides Vadaya.
>
>> You hadn’t expected them to be chipper. You weren’t that naively optimistic- they were in pain, they were Daginy. You had expected them, when sober, to be more like their usual self. Quiet, ready to listen, perhaps nervous. You knew they didn’t enjoy being in the medbay after all.
>> 
>> But the look they gave you was none of that. It was just a glance, but the emotion was raw. It was a look you saw on the faces of trolls you had defeated, the ones who blamed you for their fate rather than their own foolish decision to fight against an unconquerable opponent. Did Daginy despise you now?
>> 
>> The moment passed as they turned away from you, told you  _they don’t want to talk to you_. Petulantly, like a wriggler upset with their lusus for scaring a companion away before sunrise. Your lips thinned at the spark of irritation the flickered to life at it as you watched them. Wondering why they felt they should be talking to you like this. Why they thought they could.
>> 
>> You’d never mouthed off to your superiors. You’d learned that quick, back when you had been a fresh recruit. You weren’t there to ask why, to question your orders or why they were given. You didn’t show disrespect, because it wasn’t your place. Because the recruits who were fool enough to backtalk got punished enough to learn their lesson or they didn’t last.
>> 
>> And to try and order you away? Any of your instructors would have done a lot worse than get the lash.
>> 
>> “Daginy,” you threaded your voice with just a hint of steel, cold instead of the heat of anger. Hadn’t this been a part of the reading, when you had first volunteered to be Daginy’s handler? Sometimes a rehabilitated troll would lash out, try to flip the balance of control. It was important to stay firm. You remembered the suggestions on how to put them back in their place, but you held them back.
>> 
>> You wanted Daginy to listen to you, you didn’t want to destroy them.
>> 
>> “I understand you are in pain,” you continue, keeping yourself even and steady. “And I am sorry you are uncomfortable. Some troll lash out when they are in pain.” You bet if you checked the morphine pump, there’d be no extra bolus after the one you gave them before. Maybe you should just have them increase the steady rate of the drug. They clearly weren’t comfortable.
>> 
>> _It was easier to blame the pain for their anger than the situation._
> 
> He doesn’t leave. You had hoped… you glance at him, enough to catch the hint of displeasure in the furrow of his brow, the thin line of his lips. You can’t hold his gaze, your eyes flickering back down. 
> 
> There’s ice in his voice, as he says your name, and a shard of fear stabs into your heart. He’s giving you a way out. All you have to do is say yes, you’re just lashing out, to welcome him next to your bed. 
> 
> You’re so tired of being afraid. 
> 
> “Yes, so maybe leave me alone,” you snap. “What do you want?” 
> 
> You glance up at him as you talk, but you can’t– you can’t hold it. Your eyes flicker back down, your chin meets your shoulder.
> 
> Maybe you should be more careful and watch your words– Vadaya’s already getting angry but you can’t bring yourself to care. Some part of you, the part that’s not afraid is outraged, goading. You want to see how far he’ll go. Would he hit you? Hurt you? Abandon you? Cull you? It’d be easy for him to do any of it, while you’re trapped here.
> 
> Or maybe, just maybe, if you’re angry enough, if he starts seeing how much is wrong with your head, maybe he’ll finally sit down and listen to you. You don’t want to have to be afraid of Vadaya. 
>
>> They spit more words at you, venomous and angry. But for all the heat in them, they still can’t look at you. They  _try,_ but then their eyes skitter away. Why? Were they brave enough to say these things at you but scared of the consequences?
>> 
>> You have a feeling this was something you were ill-equipped for. One of those situations a troll like Euefim or Nanako would understand, be ready to slip in with all the right words to make Daginy feel at ease. But you weren’t them. Did you want to even try?
>> 
>> It would be easy enough to cow Daginy back in to compliance. To remind them of their position, how you could punish them severely for their mouth and no one would bat an eye. Just rehabilitation at work. But for as easy as it could be, despite your simmering annoyance, you _didn’t want to_.
>> 
>> Everything was always so complicated with Daginy. Like playing a game with only half the rulebook. And just when you thought you had the basics figured out, it all seemed to get turned on its head. You wonder if it’s as exhausting for them.
>> 
>> “I wanted to see how you were recovering,” you say, spine rigid. You were uncomfortable, and it meant you wanted to slip away from it. But you  _couldn’t._ Another discomfort. The most you could do was correct the form of your body, though you kept your eyes on Daginy instead of straight ahead.
>> 
>> “How you were feeling,” you continue, as awkward as the words might come out. The answer was obvious now. 
> 
> He doesn’t do anything, doesn’t even come in further into the room.
> 
> You’re not really sure– you glance up at him, and he looks more uncomfortable than anything else, you don’t  _think_  he’ll hurt you, and part of you feels bad for him, but another part thinks  _good,_ that maybe now he’s listening, maybe now he’ll understand.
> 
> Still, he gives you the blandest of answers, excuses- really, and you find yourself swept up in another wave of irritation you don’t care enough to resist.
> 
> “Really?” you ask. “Not to see if I’m a  _liar_?” 
> 
> The last word slips out more venomous than you planned it to, and your shoulders shake with rage as it starts to push past your fear. Your eyes tear up- you hate how easy you cry, how fast you go from zero to a hundred, when it comes to your feelings.
> 
> That’s what hurts the most, that he’d try that, when you  _haven’t_  lied to him. Not about things he’d care about. You get to have your privacy right? You don’t have to share everything with him. And it’s not like he  _asked_ you– he always seemed like he’d rather not talk about it– until you were  _high_.
> 
> You get it. You’re an ex-rebel. No one trusts you. But Vadaya– you just had thought– you had hoped–
> 
> You look back down, and bite your lip hard to keep from crying. You don’t need tears now, when you’re angry, not hurt or afraid, which kind of scares you by itself because you’ve never felt this angry, and it feels like jumping from a cliff, a brief freedom from all of the fear. 
> 
> And because Vadaya doesn’t  _get_ to have this be easy. He doesn’t get to just do whatever and have you hop to (though a little voice in the back of your head says that he can still make you). He can’t just have  _all_ of you. 
> 
> Rebel or not you’re still a person.
>
>> They hurl the accusation at you and they don’t even stutter over it. No, they’re too angry at you for hesitation. Part of you feels guilt, a vague unease in the back of your mind that tried to spread before you squashed it back. You did what you had to do. You had to  _know,_ because if they were returning to old habits… You couldn’t allow them to be a risk.
>> 
>> They didn’t seem like a risk now though. They seemed upset. They were on the verge of tears again, drawing up from that well of theirs that never seemed to run empty.
>> 
>> You aren’t very used to trolls being angry at you. Not trolls you actually cared about in any capacity. Sometimes your instructors would get upset at you, but it was always deserved. You weren’t working to the best of your abilities, you made a mistake, you  _failed._ Anger and discipline had been the tools that had forged you in to a proper weapon.
>> 
>> Your teammates would get upset, but it would usually blow over quickly. They understood you well enough, knew you only did what you did to keep you all safe. To complete the mission. But Daginy didn’t understand that. Of course, you never accused your teammates of lying to you. Especially when they were drugged.
>> 
>> “I am sorry,” you finally say, because what else could you? Would they want to hear your truth, that you could never really trust them? You were their handler above all else, and blurring those lines was  _dangerous._ For both of you. You knew about auditing, how rigid the rules were for trolls in your position and the rehabilitated trolls left in their care.
>> 
>> You couldn’t fail- you’d failed enough already because of them. Lost an entire battery and a member of your own. You had to prove your  _worth._
> 
> The silence is long, and his apology comes as somewhat of a surprise. When you glance up, he still hasn’t moved an inch, his face as impassive as ever. You can’t  _stand_  it.
> 
> “Are you really?” you demand, those tears you’ve been holding back springing up again. You want to clench your fists but you can’t– the twitch of your hands make you flinch as the aching pain turns into twin stabs.
> 
> You really have to choke back a sob then, because you’re not done, even though your shoulders are shaking. The pain reminds you how helpless you really are. There’s a tight, high fear in your throat for all your anger, but you need him to  _understand_.
> 
> “It’s because I used to be a rebel, right?” you say. “You don’t trust me, right? What do I have to do?” You can’t hide the hint of desperation in your voice. You’ve been so alone, you’ve been so different. You’re so tired, you want to be  _normal_.
> 
> “I’m not- I’m  _not_  a rebel,” you exclaim. “I’m not! But I’m not- I can’t-” you’re well and truly crying now. Again. You’re so sick of crying. “ _What do I have to do, Vadaya!?_  How do I prove it?!” You glare at him. You want  _answers_  dammit. If everything you’ve done so far hasn’t been enough, then what will? You gave them your  _fingers_.
>
>> They’re questioning you, trying to hold out against themselves- but the sob is inevitable, you think. They’re just such an emotional creature, and part of you wants to be annoyed by it. Irritated by them questioning you like this, demanding answers that you weren’t even sure you had.
>> 
>> But another part of you saw a troll who was afraid and angry at their helplessness. Daginy didn’t remember anything after all, only that they had once been a rebel. And now they were saying they  _weren’t,_ which sounded genuine. What were the failure rates on rehabilitated trolls who returned to their criminal ways? You weren’t sure, the numbers weren’t coming to you easily now.
>> 
>> You make yourself move as they glare at your through their tears, coming closer to the bed so you could peer down at them, at the bandages on their hands and the tear tracks on their face. “There is no easy answer to give you,” you admit slowly, meeting their eyes and the anger in them.
>> 
>> “Your path is not an easy one, Daginy. But it is the only one.” You pause, let yourself consider your words before you go saying anything more. They’re crying, but you doubt they want you touching them now like you usually do. They ask about trust, but do they trust you? It’s a petty thought and you shove it away.
>> 
>> “You are not a rebel,” you continue, lips twisting in to a frown. “Trust in you takes. Time, Daginy. It is my duty as your handler to be vigilant, but. I took it too far when you have done nothing to deserve such suspicions.” You’re trying not to show how uncomfortable you are, trying to retreat further in to yourself. You weren’t a troll who could deal with emotions, who could say the words others needed to hear. You were afraid you were just going to make things  _worse._
> 
> You can’t help but shy away when he approaches closer, pressing yourself into the pillow, shoulders hunched, even as you determinedly keep your eyes fixed up at him. You’re not doing what you’re supposed to do, yelling at Vadaya, telling him to go away, and even as you burn with anger, you know that he could throw you out for this. The part of you that’s daring and angry wants to see if he’ll dare, but another, growing part of you is terrified that he  _will_  when the consequences of your outburst finally hit. 
> 
> He looks you up and down, still standing over you, and you feel stupidly exposed, hunching your shoulders as you glance down, then back as he meets your eyes and calmly explains, another apology. 
> 
> His words are like a balm and the anger disappears, leaving you to deal with the pain instead. You bow your head, pulling your elbows in, but keeping your hands as still as possible as you hunch over and sob. 
> 
> He’s not leaving you. You weren’t sure there, for awhile, if he really cared, but he’s here and he says he took things too far, and you really really really just wanted to know he was there for you. 
> 
> You can’t speak for the tears, but you nod, and try to wipe your face on your shoulders. You feel kind of stupid for your outburst now, even as you grapple with the sudden pain you don’t have anger to cover up for you anymore. 
> 
> “I know,” you sob. “I know, I’m just- Vadaya- I’m  _tired._ I don’t- I don’t want to do this anymore.”
> 
> You don’t even know what “ _this”_ is, you just want to the pain to stop. The morphine button under your blankets feels all the more tempting. 
>
>> They shy away from you like they think you’re going to hit them. You aren’t sure when that instinct will begin to fade- you had never laid a hand on them after all. Maybe it wouldn’t, not with their history. But you didn’t want to consider the idea of having a flinching soldier in your team. You need them to be able to control themselves.
>> 
>> But not tonight. Not while they’re in pain, their hands crippled and still angry at you. At least that seems to drain out of them with your words, leaving only the tears. You consider touching their bowed shoulder, but still you hang back. Daginy still remains a mystery to you when it comes to how they will react to unexpected contact.
>> 
>> They’re trying to wipe at their tears, but it’s a bit hard when they can’t use their hands. You reach for the box of tissues by the bed, pulling one out and hesitating when you have it. Wiping their face for them would be… Infantilizing at the very least. If not taken as a pitying gesture, something  _pale._ And something in you was quite against the very idea of that.
>> 
>> You finally just hold the tissue in front of them, trying not to feel awkward about doing so. “Here. If you will allow me…” You trail off when they speak again, not liking the defeat in their voice. They had to keep going. Part of you wants to draw back to your own training, the sharp voices that called to you when you faltered.  _Did they think that things would get easier from here?_ It’s your Instructor whispering in your ear now, and you can’t stop how tense it makes you for a moment, turning to stone before you made yourself soften again.
>> 
>> “You must give yourself more credit Daginy,” you say instead, trying to sound soothing. “You are tired. You are allowed to feel tired. You have gone through a lot. But you are through the worst of it now.” They were words you had never really heard before. You aren’t sure where they’re coming from. But you aren’t sure how else you could possibly help Daginy.
> 
> He holds out a tissue for your face and you kind of want to spit at it, a brief irritation at your own helplessness- but you  _do_  want all those tears off your face and spite isn’t going to get you anywhere. .
> 
> “J-just hold onto it?” you mutter as you lean forward and wipe your face on the tissue. It’s not the most efficient way of getting the stuff off your face, but you’ll be damned if you’re just going to let him wipe away your tears when you’re still a little mad at him. 
> 
> You pull away and sniffle, tucking your shoulder back into your chin. You’re not sure what he means by the worst of it, considering you’re still not sure what you mean by “it”. The worst of being a soldier? You’re pretty sure that’s not true, considering you haven’t even stepped out of the training bureau. The worst times of your life? Hopefully, considering you  _have_  been tortured before. It’s not like you can remember your life but you think you’d consider that a low. The worst of this surgery? Probably. 
> 
> It’s not  _just_  the surgery though, that’s wearing you down so far. You sit quietly for a minute, trying to sort out your feelings. You’re tired of being so afraid, of feeling so alone. Getting past your training would make you stronger, feel safer. If you could get to the point where you could actually hold a conversation with someone besides Vadaya, you’d feel less alone. You want to feel like you’re heard, because otherwise, you’re just floundering in the void.
> 
> You just need to get through this. The thought feels like a limp, like you’re dragging yourself along the journey you need to take. You want help- you have Vadaya, but you… you also have your doubts. 
> 
> You remember now- asking when you were high if he cared, or if it was just his duty. You don’t remember an answer, if he gave one. If you asked again, would he answer you? You’re not sure if you’re brave enough to ask that particular question again. In another way, maybe. He doesn’t trust you- you’re never not going to be an ex-rebel, and you might as well get used to it, you guess- but you think he cares enough to listen. You need to know what he’s looking for. 
> 
> You look up at him, biting your lip as you pick your words carefully. “Vadaya,” you say. “What did you think I was lying about?”
> 
> It’s not like you really have anything to hide. 
>
>> “Of course,” you assure, keeping your hand steady for them as they wipe their face. You’re glad they don’t take your gesture as insulting, though you can still feel their frustration lingering. How could you not, after what they said to you?
>> 
>> You had calmed them, so far. At least their anger, but the emotions that helped fuel their rage were still smoldering. And feeling ready to quit? The very idea made your stomach twist. There was no quitting, not for them. Failure meant death, a swift execution and another troll added to the failure rates of rehabilitation.
>> 
>> Would it reflect poorly on you? It was not as if you knew any other handlers. They were not usually the types of trolls you wanted to spend time with, too many falling to one extreme or another. Too many that just saw the power that came with the position over another. Who would be cruel simply because they could be.
>> 
>> You were not cruel for cruelty’s sake- pain was a tool that could be used to shape a troll, you knew that well. But your pain had always had a purpose behind it. You had always been strong enough to withstand it.
>> 
>> Daginy was not you. Could not be you- not with their trauma. Not when just this life had them in tears more nights than not. Part of you looked at them trembling, defeated, and looked back at the night you captured them. The urges to just end them there that had warred against your orders. Part of you wondered again if it would have just been best to- no. You were a soldier, and you followed your orders. Duty and obedience to the Empire were what you were built for.
>> 
>> You were thankful for the distraction of their words, even as your lips pursed at the question itself. Did they really not understand what it was you had been searching for? It seemed hard to believe, that Daginy’s mind would not pick up that you worried about them returning to old ways.
>> 
>> “You do not speak much to me about many matters,” you decide on, setting the tissue to the side. “I can understand why. It would be hypocritical of me to expect your trust in everything when I do not give it in return. But as I said. I must be vigilant. And sometimes that can drive me to make errors.” You were still a troll, after all- you made mistakes. But you always made sure you did not make them twice.
> 
> He’s not answering your question, and you struggle with it for a moment. He doesn’t trust you not to use it against him maybe- but he does have good reason not to trust. He’s apologizing to you again, but you’re already sick of it. You just want to move forward.
> 
> He just confirmed he doesn’t trust you, but do you trust him? Did you trust him? It’s hard to even try and put that answer into words.
> 
> “Well,” you say, your voice small. “You never asked. I mean if your question is ‘are you returning to your criminal ways’ the answer’s no but-” you bite your lip for a moment and glance away as you feel another wash of pain. “-I’m doing okay in my studies and my trainings- I- I didn’t think you were interested in much else.”
> 
> You haven’t told him about the bullying because you didn’t want him to intervene but that was on the premise that he cared enough to anyway. You think he does. But really, he might not.
> 
> You’re not sure, really, how much you trust Vadaya, knowing he’s there to act as your executioner should you stray off the path again- but there’s not actually a lot you wouldn’t tell him. Maybe you wouldn’t tell him exactly how badly you want to learn about yourself, the you before rehabilitation, or that you couldn’t bring yourself to fight back against Jiriya and Darlim, but everything else?
> 
> If he asked- if he wanted to know… maybe you would tell him. Who else would you talk to anyway?
>
>> Were you interested in much else? Should you be? Part of you says no. As long as you are keeping them in line, making sure they are always staying away from their past life and keeping them focused on training… That was your duty. That was all you should care about.
>> 
>> But they sound so small, and their earlier words about being tired… About not wanting to do this anymore… Hadn’t you had those moments before? You found it hard to even think about yourself like that, but part of you knew you had. Back when you were so much younger, forced to keep up with older wrigglers that had wanted nothing to do with you. Later, when you had begun your training for command…
>> 
>> “I am not always the easiest troll to speak to,” you tell them plainly, your gauntleted fingers curling against your palm to ground you. “Nor am I the best troll at speaking with others. I am interested in your studies and your training. I am your instructor, of course I am. But…”
>> 
>> You shouldn’t be feeling regret over your orders. Over being in this situation. Or was is regret that Daginy was in this situation? You were not allowed to get emotional.
>> 
>> “But,” you recover your thoughts, bring your mind to heel once more, “I would not do things like play chess with you if that was all I cared for. Would I?”  _Would you?_ You found yourself suddenly wondering that as well.
> 
> You look up at him as he confesses to you his difficulties which haven’t really registered to you, honestly, considering he was the only person who you talked to at any length, but it does make sense. 
> 
> You watch him pause, watch the subtleties flick over his face, and it’s that, more than the words he says that makes you think that he probably does care after all. 
> 
> “You could just really like chess,” you joke, and try to ease it off with a halfhearted chuckle, glancing off to the side. You’re still not really feeling like laughing. “But Vadaya… I’d tell you stuff if you asked.”
> 
> You glance back up at him a little nervously. “I want you to- I mean, I’d like for you to be able to trust me,” you say. “At least a little more? I don’t- I mean, I don’t think I have anything to hide and- and-” you swallow and look back aside. “I don’t know. I’ve wanted to tell you stuff but-” your voice trails off to a whisper. “-it’s hard to talk about.” 
> 
> You’ve never told him about what exactly you remembered, or explained the gaping sense of loss from the removal of your memories. You didn’t even manage to explain how terrified getting your augments made you feel. You shrink back a little, at the memory. 
> 
> You don’t think he meant to scare you like that though. And… You swallow, trying not to think about the pain in your hands, the gap between your pointer and ring fingers that if you don’t think about- it’s okay. 
> 
> It wasn’t like you had a real choice in getting them anyway. He was just trying to help you get through it, and it wasn’t like you were too clear about anything anyway. 
>
>> They plainly tell you that they’d tell you things, like it was that easy. Was it? You knew it could be- it was how it was with your battery after all, barring certain subjects. You could trust your teammates with your life, would happily bleed for them without hesitation.
>> 
>> But you did not speak to them about what you had been before the IPC. You smoothed down the information on your training, tried to make it more… Tolerable, for trolls who had had wrigglerhoods outside of Imperial halls. And you knew they would tell you things if you asked. Not just because you were their commander, but because you were comrades in arms.
>> 
>> You hadn’t gone through that with Daginy. They had been the cause of your bleeding, not what you had shed it to defend. But had they given you much to think they would lie to you? No. You had their past looming behind them, the web of lies you had gripped with your hands and torn apart.
>> 
>> And now you had them. Hesitant but being honest and wanting you to trust them.
>> 
>> You form yourself a chair and you sit slowly, taking the moment to concentrate your thoughts. Against your usual instincts you find your hands in your lap, fingers threading through one another. That you can only actually feel four is… Normal to you now, after so long with them. But you could still remember when it was eight fingers. And if you really focused, you remembered all ten.
>> 
>> “I will try to trust you,” you say, watching them. “And I will try to be more open with you. As long as you try to trust me in return. And be open.” Part of you felt wary about even saying you’d  _try_ to trust them. Nervous about straying off the path that you felt was laid out for you as their handler.
>> 
>> But you were a commander before you were a handler. And part of you wanted to treat them as a teammate. You knew that desire was dangerous, but that didn’t stop the feeling.
> 
> He sits down, finally, and you find yourself breathing a little more easily now that he’s not looming over you. 
> 
> You watch him as he constructs the chair and folds his fingers in his lap, his brow just barely furrowed. You watch him just as carefully as he watches you, and you don’t move, simply wait anxiously as he thinks. And he thinks for awhile, and it makes you nervous, but at least he’s  _thinking_  about it. 
> 
> When he says that he will try and trust you, you feel another surge of relief that almost brings the tears back again. You nod, blinking rapidly. 
> 
> “I’ll do my best,” you whisper, a knot in your throat again. You want to tell him so much. You don’t even know where to start, or how you’d say any of it. You glance down, sniff, and you start with a question of your own. 
> 
> “Did- did I do something to make you think I was hiding things from you?” you ask, your voice hushed. You’d like to know really. Was it possible that you were turning back into a criminal without knowing it? You don’t.. you don’t think so. You’re pretty sure that’s not how crime works. 
> 
> If you were, and he told you this, would you just use it to hide your tracks better? You wonder if Vadaya would see it that way and refuse to answer. But you do want to see if he trusts you at all. 
>
>> They briefly touch on what you wanted them to remember- the eyes- but they don’t seem to linger on it at all. Do they not remember the woman, or did it just not strike them as important? Perhaps it was simply the drugs. Other trolls have probably said stranger things, and their eye always seems like a touchy subject. Not that you didn’t understand why, with what they do remember of the loss…
>> 
>> They pause, face filling with color, and you’re pretty sure what they just recalled. The silence drags for an awkward beat, but you aren’t about to break it. You didn’t know if they wanted to speak about it, but you were hoping not.
>> 
>> If they would just let it lie in the dirt, you were more than happy to do the same. You didn’t think they meant it after all, it was simply the drugs playing tricks on their mind. It wasn’t like they had anyone else to babble about, you continued to be their main source of interaction. 
>> 
>> “Yes,” you answer when their voice lilts in to question. “You spoke of a woman who took your eye. Of course, there was a chance that it was just the drugs. But you had never mentioned a woman when you spoke about your eye. And…” You trail off, lips tugging in to the hint of a frown. 
>> 
>> “I got too carried away with my concerns. It should have waited until you were in a better state of mind.” Their state right now was better than it  _was._ But you weren’t sure it was that much better. Not yet at least.
> 
> You furrow your brows for a moment, when he mentions it, and you remember talking about a woman eating your eye. You guess that’s what got him concerned, that you remembered more than you let on. 
> 
> Which, frankly, you did. But none of it was details that would concern him. What had you told him about the memory? Just that your eye had been removed with scissors. The memory sends your gaze skittering again, and your jaw glues shut. You’ve mulled over that snatch of a forgotten past over and over again. You haven’t remembered more from it, no more memories of how you ended up there, or why. 
> 
> But you think you’ve figured  _some_  things out. And you think Vadaya would want to know. 
> 
> “I don’t-” you whisper. “I don’t know about gender. I- I mean, it doesn’t sound wrong? I don’t know. I-” you swallow, and lean back into your pillows. Talking about this is way more excruciating than you thought it would be, but you said you’d try to be  _open_. 
> 
> “I can show you,” you say quietly, after a pause. Words don’t seem to be working out too well for you. “What I remember, I mean. It’s not.. it’s just what I felt. Saw.”
> 
> You pause again, and flex your psi. You think you might have enough control for this. 
> 
> “Things were blurry. I think they probably took my psi. And my glasses, if I had them.”  
> 
> You’re starting to get a little worked up. You’re not sure if it’s the pain in your hands, but it’s like all of a sudden the memory looms over you, pressing too close to the present for you to breath normally. 
> 
> You hesitate and glance over at Vadaya. Does he even want to hear this? Maybe you’re doing this for nothing. 
>
>> You see the recognition flicker to life in their eyes, just for a moment before they look away from you again. But not because of the realization they gave up the information, you’re pretty sure of that. No, this was just the effects of having to think of the trauma again.
>> 
>> You watch them, take in the tenseness of their jaw. But they aren’t shaking yet, there’s no tears or anger. You decide to stay quiet until they speak, just trying to puzzle them out. You’d both just agreed to the terms of trust, of being honest. It was against everything in you to not start doubting them as the silence dragged, to not wonder what was going on in their mind.
>> 
>> But they start talking, quiet and stumbling over their words again. Sounding doubtful over what they had shared the other night, back to being pained over the lingering memories that they shouldn’t have.
>> 
>> But you knew rehabilitation was not a perfect process, didn’t you? If it was, there would be no failures. This memory did not make Daginy in to a failure, not if you could help it.
>> 
>> You listen silently when they break the quiet again to continue, to offer to show you. Part of you immediately wants to agree. To know the limits of what they remember, what’s lurking in their mind.
>> 
>> But part of you recognizes the look they give you. The tenseness in their body, the way their breathing is starting to get shallow. If you ask them to show you, it could and probably would spiral them down in to another of their panic attacks.
>> 
>> They were already suffering, weren’t they? Their hands couldn’t be comfortable without the morphine to help the pain, you had already shaken them about tonight and only now were things beginning to try and settle down for them.
>> 
>> “I think,” you pause, meeting their look with one of your own trying to seem steady and calming for their sake, “that you have had enough happen to you tonight. We can discuss you showing me this at another time. When you are not restricted to a bed. I do not want to upset you again. Does that sound alright?”
> 
> The question throws you off your momentum. Does that sound alright to you? 
> 
> On one hand, you want to get it over with. The memory’s too close, and you want to shove some of it on Vadaya, if you’re being perfectly honest. And you think sharing it is going to be upsetting no matter when you do it. 
> 
> On the other, you’re… alright, for now. If you end up having an attack, still being trapped in a hospital bed without the use of your hands is going to be miserable, and he  _did_ say he’d want to hear it later. It wasn’t like he wasn’t interested. 
> 
> You’re trembling a little, and you finally notice how tired you are. You’ve blocked out the pain mostly but it still  _hurts_ … you’re kind of a mess. 
> 
> You nod slowly. “Okay,” you whisper, and blink slowly as you try to shove the memory back, with limited success. It’s like you can still feel the ghost of anonymous hands reaching out to grab you, drag you backwards, drown you. 
> 
> “Then let’s talk about something else,” you say, you can’t grab onto another topic. “I don’t know what- I-” you glance cautiously towards Vadaya. “I need the distraction. Please?”  
> 
> You hope he doesn’t just leave, now that you have this agreement. 
>
>> They take a while before they agree, but you’re patient. You wait- you know you only have a limited grasp on what’s going on in their mind. That sometimes they had a hard time knowing as well. So you let them puzzle out their feelings.
>> 
>> And then they want to talk about something else. You’re not quite sure that subject to offer up, but they’re looking at you and asking for a distraction. You wonder when the medicullers will arrive, ready to examine Daginy and give them their pills and meal. You hope they remembered the list of foods Daginy wouldn’t eat, even though soup would be so easily tempting to offer with their hands disabled.
>> 
>> You don’t remember how you ate the first time. You were sure they just kept your in a comfortable haze back then. And later, you had training. You knew how to focus your psionics even when in pain, so you were still able to construct what you needed to to feed yourself. Daginy wouldn’t have that option.
>> 
>> “Alright,” you agree once you pull yourself from your thoughts, clicking the metal of your AREMA’s claws against the replacement finger on your left before you could stop yourself. You didn’t like fidgeting.
>> 
>> “When you are released from the medbay, you will still have some nights to yourself to heal,” you decide the future is a safe enough topic, though you watch their face to make sure. “You will be able to move your hands, the boards are only for this night as long as there are no complications. But they will be sore. I usually spent such nights listening to audiobooks. Less of a need to use my hands with them. If you would like, I will bring you a device with some books loaded on to it to listen to.”
>> 
>> They didn’t have much. And what they did have, you have given to them. Usually when they had accomplished something- you thought that enduring their first surgery was an accomplishment.
> 
> You nod when he talks, relieved he’s shown no signs of leaving. 
> 
> “I’d like that,” you say quietly. “What sort of books do you listen to?” 
> 
> Having an audio playback would be so much better, now that you don’t have full use of your hands. At least they wouldn’t be tied down for much longer. 
> 
> The door opens and the mediculler comes in, holding a plate of food. It’s the same one from before, and you shrink back a little, as he trots in. 
> 
> “Good evening,” he says, giving Vadaya a nod, then looks at you. “Rough wake up, was it?” 
> 
> You nod hesitantly. 
> 
> “Well it only gets better from here on out,” he says soothingly and pulls out a bed tray to place the food in front of you. It’s mashed potatoes, a vegetable mix and macaroni and cheese, which is a relief. You’re hungry, and it’s not something you can’t eat. 
> 
> …You don’t know  _how_ exactly you’re going to eat it. You glance at Vadaya, uncertain. 
> 
> The mediculler holds out a spoon to him. 
> 
> “Well they don’t have any hands to use,” he says. “Unless you want me to do it?” 
> 
> You stare at the mediculler for a minute then back at Vadaya. Does he expect Vadaya to  _feed_  you? 
>
>> They take a while before they agree, but you’re patient. You wait- you know you only have a limited grasp on what’s going on in their mind. That sometimes they had a hard time knowing as well. So you let them puzzle out their feelings.
>> 
>> And then they want to talk about something else. You’re not quite sure that subject to offer up, but they’re looking at you and asking for a distraction. You wonder when the medicullers will arrive, ready to examine Daginy and give them their pills and meal. You hope they remembered the list of foods Daginy wouldn’t eat, even though soup would be so easily tempting to offer with their hands disabled.
>> 
>> You don’t remember how you ate the first time. You were sure they just kept your in a comfortable haze back then. And later, you had training. You knew how to focus your psionics even when in pain, so you were still able to construct what you needed to to feed yourself. Daginy wouldn’t have that option.
>> 
>> “Alright,” you agree once you pull yourself from your thoughts, clicking the metal of your AREMA’s claws against the replacement finger on your left before you could stop yourself. You didn’t like fidgeting.
>> 
>> “When you are released from the medbay, you will still have some nights to yourself to heal,” you decide the future is a safe enough topic, though you watch their face to make sure. “You will be able to move your hands, the boards are only for this night as long as there are no complications. But they will be sore. I usually spent such nights listening to audiobooks. Less of a need to use my hands with them. If you would like, I will bring you a device with some books loaded on to it to listen to.”
>> 
>> They didn’t have much. And what they did have, you have given to them. Usually when they had accomplished something- you thought that enduring their first surgery was an accomplishment.
> 
> You nod when he talks, relieved he’s shown no signs of leaving. 
> 
> “I’d like that,” you say quietly. “What sort of books do you listen to?” 
> 
> Having an audio playback would be so much better, now that you don’t have full use of your hands. At least they wouldn’t be tied down for much longer. 
> 
> The door opens and the mediculler comes in, holding a plate of food. It’s the same one from before, and you shrink back a little, as he trots in. 
> 
> “Good evening,” he says, giving Vadaya a nod, then looks at you. “Rough wake up, was it?” 
> 
> You nod hesitantly. 
> 
> “Well it only gets better from here on out,” he says soothingly and pulls out a bed tray to place the food in front of you. It’s mashed potatoes, a vegetable mix and macaroni and cheese, which is a relief. You’re hungry, and it’s not something you can’t eat. 
> 
> …You don’t know  _how_ exactly you’re going to eat it. You glance at Vadaya, uncertain. 
> 
> The mediculler holds out a spoon to him. 
> 
> “Well they don’t have any hands to use,” he says. “Unless you want me to do it?” 
> 
> You stare at the mediculler for a minute then back at Vadaya. Does he expect Vadaya to  _feed_  you? 
>
>> Part of you feels some satisfaction in the way you make his words die as the flash of your psionics. The reminder that you are a psionic, that your caste and rank far outweighs his.
>> 
>> You’d never snapped and culled another troll. You had more control than that, you kept a tight leash on your natural aggression and never let it slip. But you knew well enough that others could still see the purple of your blood. That there was a first time for everything, and what would happen if you did decide to cull him? You might get a review from your superiors. There might be a fine, a scolding. But he’d still be dead.
>> 
>> You banish the thoughts, no matter how satisfying they might be in the heat of the moment. You watch silently as the mediculler sets down the water and pills and with one final waggle of his fingers, he’s gone.
>> 
>> You feel yourself relax more when the door clicks shut, your jaw loosening as you lean back in your chair. The words he had spoken to you before, while Daginy was in surgery, tried to creep in to your head but you pushed them away as well.
>> 
>> Focusing on the troll in question was easier, and you gave Daginy a controlled dip of your head. “Of course,” you monotone, hands returning to your lap. “I have been in your position before, numerous times. This is the way I was able to feed myself. Having to rely on another for a task such as feeding yourself is…” You trail off, lips pursing. “No troll enjoys it. Just take your time. It is a bit awkward, but better than the alternatives.”
> 
> Vadaya relaxes when the mediculler slides out, so you guess it’s probably not you that’s the problem. 
> 
> “How many surgeries did you have?” you ask him as you tentatively pick your hand up and dig the spoon into the food. You think he probably had more than you’ll be subjected to- his entire right arm is metal- but you wonder how many of them you will need to endure before you can be considered a full soldier. You really hope it’s not too many, and that this is the worst of it. 
> 
> It is awkward- scooping food into your mouth, and your hand twinges, trying to manage the psionic band to make it do what you want. It’s frustrating, and you poke yourself in the face a couple of times, but you  _are_  actually getting through your meal yourself. 
> 
> You look at the pills though, and glance at Vadaya. You’re a little more stymied, unsure as to how you’re actually supposed to manage that without your hands. Maybe he can help you load the pills into a little scoop and… somehow get your water to your face without unbalancing? You feel so stupid for even having to consider this.  
>
>> “I have lost count,” you tell them honestly, flexing the hand of your AREMA as you consider it. “I was young when I was given my first augments. As I grew, modifications had to be made to keep up with my growth.” Not to mention how many times you had needed to be sent in for repairs, when you had broken your augments.
>> 
>> And then you had been chosen to be outfitted with the AREMA, gone through the surgeries to attach the biowires to your nerves. That had been three surgeries. Two more to set the groundwork for the casing, to attach it-
>> 
>> -Countless more to salvage your arm from the wreck that it had been from that yellowblood.
>> 
>> You settle as they eat, clumsy but managing alright. You had given them a warning after all, and you think trying to help them would just make them feel worse. Best to give them what independence you could. Though… There was still the pills. And the water.
>> 
>> And they seem to know it, judging by the way they’re looking at the pills. The mediculler could have at least included a straw, to give them a little relief from being handfed- you form one with a little thought, placing it in to the water. “I can either hold it for you to drink out of,” you explain, “or you can just lean forward. Again, it will not be graceful, but…” The pills as well. But you could always put those on the spoon, you think.
> 
> Somehow you expected the answer to be something along those lines and your pusher sinks a little. At least you don’t have to worry about growing out of your augments. Do you? It occurs to you that you don’t know how old you are. You’ve never needed to ask before. Your eyes are filled in now, but the age that happens can vary, and you  _are_  pretty small. Maybe you still have more growing to do? 
> 
> If you’re younger, how old were you when you were running around doing all that criminal stuff? 
> 
> “How old am I?” you ask him, glancing at him as you finish up your meal. It feels weird to  _not_  know something that basic about yourself, but then again, that’s not a new feeling anymore. “Do you know? Am  _I_  going to grow more?”
> 
> He materializes a straw into your water, for which you’re grateful again. 
> 
> “I’ll take gracelessness,” you mutter and lean forward to drink some water. You can’t wait till you get these stupid boards off your hands. “Can you-” 
> 
> You gesture to the pills with your spoon hand. The words don’t quite make the rest of the way out of your mouth. You wish you didn’t have to put up with this. You wish you could go to sleep and just forget about all of this  _bullshit_. 
>
>> They ask how old they are, and perhaps you shouldn’t have been so unmoved by the question. Most would feel some sort of pity, that they knew so little about themselves, but… You knew it was for their own good. The Empire had made its decision for them, and they just had to continue on with it.
>> 
>> “You are in your ninth sweep,” you inform them, considering their follow up question. “It is possible that you will grow further, but doubtful.” They were lowblooded, had probably spent their early sweeps without proper nutrition. There were naturally short trolls, of course, but with Daginy’s past…
>> 
>> Rebellion did not put food on a troll’s plate.
>> 
>> “It is more likely you will continue to gain mass from training,” you continue, averting your eyes as they drink. They don’t need to feel like they’re some sideshow that you’re enjoying, after all.
>> 
>> You glance back only when they begin their request, leaning forward to grab the cup with your flesh hand. “Of course, just hold still,” you request, tapping them out on to the spoon for them. A moment of concentration made the spoon a bit deeper- you didn’t want to have to try hunting them down if Daginy spilled them, and you were sure they were important.
> 
> He looks away as you drink, and you’re not sure why- is it that disgusting to watch? It was his idea, and he called it graceless but you didn’t think it was  _that_  bad, you- you might be over thinking it, you’re just  _drinking_ , and he’s still talking like everything’s normal. 
> 
> Nine sweeps sounds about right to you. It’s weird to think about. You’re not even Ascension age, and already you’ve done so much. All your scars are a testament to that, even if you can’t remember the stories behind them. At least you won’t grow more. 
> 
> Vadaya helps you load up your spoon with the pills, adjusting it so you don’t have to be so worried you’ll lose them. You’re thankful for that- if you spilled them, you’d have to find them, and you’d probably cry again. 
> 
> Leaning forward you grab some more water and hold it under your tongue as you bring the spoon to your mouth and swallow the pills. 
> 
> Success. You took some pills without crying. A real milestone. 
> 
> You take a deep breath, and try to swallow some of that bitterness. 
> 
> “Am I going to need more surgeries?” you ask. “Besides, you know, just me breaking stuff.” 
> 
> You’re going to take such good care of your augments, you never want to be back here ever again. 
>
>> The pills go down without a problem and you’re able to settle back in your chair, letting the spoon on their wrist disappear. And they’re back with more questions- every one you answer seems to spawn two more in its wake.
>> 
>> But this one makes you pause. Would they be outfitted with ports? Their psionics were not suited for actually helming a ship. Perhaps to be implemented in cloaking, but- you were unsure if the stabilizers would allow them enough control to cloak an entire ship. 
>> 
>> “I do not think you will need to worry about it,” you finally decide on, watching their face. “Trolls with suitable psionics are equipped with ports. To allow them to pilot a variety of machinery.”  
>   
> You pause, looking down to consider the AREMA. “But your psionics… There is nothing there that could be used for a helm. And you would be able to cloak any object without being hooked in to it. We are also given steroid ports,” You flip your arm over so you can show the underside to Daginy, tap the port near the crook of your elbow.
>> 
>> “It allows for a quicker way to inject chemical cocktails to strengthen our psionics,” you explain, back to watching them. “But I doubt they will bother giving you a steroid port if they are not giving you the full ports.”
> 
> You can’t help the relief that crosses your face when he says that you won’t have to worry about more surgery. You never want to be back here if you can help it. 
> 
> But he continues, and talks about ports and helming, and shows you a steroid port, and you lean back into the pillows and try to process all of it. It’s a struggle, even though you’ve probably escaped those particular surgeries.  _Helming_  ports. But, but- 
> 
> _The empire doesn’t treat helms like people._  
> 
> That’s the thought in your head. Like most the other thoughts that pop into your head, you don’t know where it comes from, and you don’t- you know what helming  _is_ , you know what it looks like, and you know- what do you even know?
> 
>  Vadaya’s in front of you, as troll as a troll could be,  _he’s_ a helm, right? Is that thought anti-empire? Is that somehow more- more rebel stuff that snuck past the block? Are you regressing? You can’t trust your own  _mind_ , even. 
> 
> You glance at him, scared. You did just promise to be more  _open._
> 
> _“_ Vadaya,” you whisper. “I just- I just had a thought. I thought- I thought-” 
> 
> You glance away, petrified. If this crosses the line, is he going to kill you? You’ve already started the sentence though. And you can’t hide how scared you are. You’ve never been able to that. 
> 
> All you can do is trust him. 
> 
> “I just thought, ‘but the empire doesn’t treat helms like- like people,’“ you say. “Is that.. is that a rebel thing?” 
>
>> For a while, they seem to be taking it all in alright. They’re relaxing back in to the bed, obviously soothed at the idea that they won’t be getting the port set up. And thinking about it… You’re rather glad.
>> 
>> You knew how much you disliked port surgery. The nights of having to lay immobile on your front, only moving enough to make sure that everything healed correctly was. Unpleasant. But to Daginy, you’re sure it would have been torture.
>> 
>> But they start to tense again as you continue to speak, and when they glance at you they’re sared. When they talk, it’s back to stuttering their words, and you don’t understand why until they finally get it out, and-
>> 
>> -well. Of all the things for them to cling to, that idea was a surprising one. Definitely not one you enjoyed, despite how often it occured. You understood the confusion for most- indigos were the highest land caste. To put ports in such a high blood? It made trolls uncomfortable. Made them make excuses.
>> 
>> “I am an imperial troll,” you tell them calmly, though you can feel the frown pulling at your lips. “I am treated like a person. Many of your fellow recruits will be ported. We are still seen as people. It is not a rebel idea, that we are not.”
>> 
>> You resist the urge to shift in your chair, push until you feel the metal of your back. “Plenty of Imperial trolls see a troll with ports in them as lesser. They will balk at being ordered by a troll with ports. You become used to it. Let them think what they will- as long as they obey. And when they are face to face with a troll who is ported and clearly on their level…”
>> 
>> “…Well,” you consider, giving a light shrug. “It makes them reconsider somewhat. What it is about having a device in a troll makes them lesser. And they realize that we are not.” You hope that was enough to soothe them.
> 
> He doesn’t immediately move towards you, just continues to explain in his usual way, and you let your shoulders relax, just a bit. It’s not untrue, then, that imperial trolls don’t like helms. It’s the first thought you had that even questioned the empire, you had thought- well. You know what you had thought, but it’s not entirely true either. After all, Vadaya’s right there, strong as strong can be, a high ranking soldier in the face of their military and he has ports. You take a deep breath, try to shake off the fear that your death is imminent, and press the backs of your forearms to your forehead. You’re so  _stupid._ You can’t trust your head to do anything right. Vadaya said that you were recruited for your intelligence, but you can’t even tell what’s true and what’s not. How are you supposed to  _do_ anything if you don’t  _know_ anything? “Yeah,” you say, only a little shakily as you bring your arms back down. “Yeah I see, I-” a thought occurs to you. “What about- about the permanent columns? Have you been in one?”
>
>> You aren’t sure why this thought, out of any, seems to have them so shaken. Had you seemed upset to them? You don’t think so- you weren’t about to let something that came up as often as your personhood upset you. No, it had to be something else.
>> 
>> Perhaps the negative connotations against the Empire. You knew part of the rehabilitation process was… Encouraging acceptable ideas in place of the bad ones that were taken away. You just aren’t sure what to do with the knowledge as you watch them bury their face in their arms.
>> 
>> At least their questions you understood what to do with. “I have been in a helmscolumn, yes.” You tell them, watching carefully to see if they continue to calm down. “My port was made to be compatible with a variety of different interfaces. But I was never meant to be a permanent helm, of course. If there is a need for a pilot, I can and will act as one.”
>> 
>> You consider, deciding to try and lighten the mood. They always wanted more information, after all. “I pilot often,” you say, leaning back. “I own a ship of my own. I act as both captain and helm, when I use it.”
> 
> Vadaya explains more about his set up and what he’s done, even explaining to you he owns his own ship that he pilots. And you guess it makes sense, that the ports, they’re just something else to make use of your- well, not yours, his psionics. 
> 
> Is it a bad idea to keep pushing? You don’t know anymore. You can’t tell why you’re scared of anything, or what you really should be afraid of, only that you are, constantly, all the time. 
> 
> But it doesn’t sit right by you. Vadaya doesn’t seem to think it’s a rebel thing, but you’re scared it is. But… the picture is still missing something, and it’s not a rebel thing to be  _curious_ , you’ve been curious since the start. Your head might be all the way messed up, but if you’re supposed to be smart about things. Well. The only way you can do that is by learning right? Right? 
> 
> “And the- the permanent helms?” you ask. “What’s it like being permanently installed?” 
>
>> Daginy does seem to have a knack for ignoring the questions that have easy answers. They hone in on permanent helms, and what are you supposed to say to this curiosity? You could tell them you were done answering questions but that would just scare them further.
>> 
>> “Well I have never experienced it,” you say slowly, gathering your thoughts. “But it is a life of work. There are a lot of factors at play when one thinks of a permanent helm. I believe every helm has a unique experience when it comes to their role.”
>> 
>> You aren’t sure why they’re even curious about this topic. It wasn’t like either of you ever had to worry about such a thing. “The newer the ship the kinder it typically is on a helm,” you explain, brows drawn. “We are constantly improving our technology after all. But it also depends on the type of ship, some are easier than others. As well as the captain of the vessel. There is not an easy answer for your question.”
> 
> He doesn’t react badly to that question either, but he takes his time answering it, as though he doesn’t- he’s not happy with this line of thought.
> 
> You look down again, as you nod, turning his explanation over again in your head. Reluctant as it was, it was a good one.
> 
> You guess it’s different for everyone, but the older a ship, the harder it was on the helm. You can’t imagine what it’s like, being stuck in one place for so long. You have enough issues being stuck in the medbay.
> 
> But things were improving, weren’t they? If Vadaya could pilot a ship and still walk around free, maybe they could get to a point where it wasn’t impossible for every helm to still be able to walk around.
> 
> “I see,” you say. Maybe you could get some reading material on it, but you won’t ask now. You don’t want to upset Vadaya further.
> 
> “What’s it like piloting?” you ask instead. If he has his own ship he pilots himself, he probably enjoys doing so.
>
>> You aren’t sure if they stop questioning you because they’ve run out of questions or because they know you dislike the way the conversation is heading. You have a feeling it’s the latter- they’ve spent a lot of time around you at this point, they knew how to read some of your moods.
>> 
>> Still, you were glad that they decide to let it lie. It was not that you would have stopped answering, but. You recognized permanent helms were a needed evil for the Empire, that there would always be permanent helms around for a very long time. It didn’t mean you enjoyed their existence.
>> 
>> But there were more pleasant things to focus on now, like your own experiences. “It is hard to describe,” you admit, gaze turning thoughtful as you churned the ideas over in your mind.
>> 
>> “Incredibly freeing. You are not just a troll, you are a machine capable of going at speeds in which your body on its own could never dream of achieving. Flying is a very unique experience, being in control of something like that.” You choose not to speak of the firepower that came with piloting- best to stick with the fun for now, with Daginy shaken.
>> 
>> “I will eventually take you flying. To see how well you handle it. Some trolls need to adjust to it, while others take to it instantly.”
> 
> You perk up a little at that. It doesn’t sound so bad, and if he was taking you flying, it would mean you got to leave the base. You didn’t quite realize how badly you wanted that until this moment. 
> 
> And hopefully, there won’t be much room for the other recruits to talk about it either.  
> 
> “I think I’d like that,” you say. 
> 
> There’s a knock on the door, and the mediculler comes back in. 
> 
> “Hello again,” he says cheerily. “I’m just here to check in on your hands to see if we can remove the bandages.”
> 
> You glance a little uncertainly at Vadaya. You… don’t like the mediculler, but you do want to move your hands again, even if they are sore as hell. There’s not much you can say to who’s assigned to you anyhow. 
> 
> He walks over to the side of your bed that Vadaya isn’t sitting and reaches for your hand. You let him take it, albeit hesitantly, only chancing glances at the mediculler as he talks. 
> 
> “I’m just unwrapping the bandages now,” he says. “Do be good and relax. I’m here to see how the nerves have been connecting to the new prosthesis. It may very well have healed enough  at this point that we don’t have to keep it wrapped up anymore! What a celebration that would be!” 
> 
> He winks at you, and you’re not really sure what to do with that and instead you glance away again very quickly. He just chuckles as he continues to unwrap your frond. 
> 
> You don’t look directly at it. It’ll be your first time looking at your hand without- with your new finger, and you don’t know how to feel about it. 
>
>> Just when you seemed to be getting them in to a better mood, you’re disturbed. You push away the trickle of irritation that tries to form when Daginy goes from interested to uncertain, keeping your face blank at the mediculler’s overly cheerful tone.
>> 
>> You don’t think Daginy likes him. You aren’t sure if it’s because they probably know you aren’t a fan of him or if his personality rubs them the wrong way as well. You keep yourself still as Daginy looks at you, not wanting to look too comforting. No need to give the mediculler more ammunition for his idea that you’re getting too  _fond._
>> 
>> Still, the way he conducts himself feels sharp under the kind words, a razor in the lolipop. Condescension delivered with a smile that just keeps grating even when he wasn’t trying to get you involved in it.
>> 
>> Still, he was here for a purpose. If there was a problem with Daginy’s recovery, or a rejection of the augment, he needed to be there to fix it. And you hope that Daginy will feel a bit more comfortable with their hands no longer restrained.
>> 
>> However, the way they can’t seem to look at their hand makes you know that this is just the windup to another problem. You weren’t sure what to expect of it though- you clench your own fist, the metal of your finger more familiar to you than than it had been when it was flesh.
>> 
>> You stay quiet, but your eyes are on the hand that’s slowly being relieved. And on their face, waiting to see their reaction when they finally take in their modified hand.
> 
> Vadaya’s a wall again, and you don’t know what it means. You’re not sure if you did something, or if the mediculler did something– you don’t  _think_  Vadaya likes him, not after he intimidated him the last time he came in over the whole deal with the spoon. 
> 
> “Don’t you worry, sweetheart,” he coos. He’s got your hand. He can tell you’re shaking. “You’ll be just fine.” 
> 
> You stare at your other elbow, keeping as still as you can as he unwraps your hand. You can feel the pressure of the bandage release off your wrist until you can feel the fresh brush of air against your newly freed skin. 
> 
> The mediculler hisses at the sight. “Ooooo, we’re going to have to redo  _that,”_ he says. 
> 
> You tense up, alarmed, your hand still in his, not daring to look. 
> 
> “Just kidding,” he says. “You’re fine. You guys need to lighten up a little. Can you move your fingers?” 
> 
> You can’t bring yourself to look up at him again and bite your lip, trying not to cry. You’re  _angry,_ but if you do anything, you’re going to pay for it. He’s not Vadaya. What does the mediculler _want?_
> 
> Well, you know he wants you to move your fingers. You take a shaky breath and try to move them in a fan. Pinky, ring finger, middle finger- you feel the prosthetic shift like someone stapled something heavy to your knuckle and you wince at the pain, and when your finger clacks, heavy against the board, and you can’t  _feel_  it, a little whimper escapes your throat. 
> 
> You look at your hand. 
> 
> You’ve seen it like this before- you projected this illusion for yourself on your first day, and you’ve done it for yourself again in private, but you can’t dispel this one. This hand- this hand it’s not  _your_  hand. 
> 
> You space- it’s the best word for it. You can’t panic, not with the mediculler watching you, and you’re shaking, but it’s happening to you from some other space, unreal and distant, and it gets a lot easier to handle from there. You end up just staring blankly at your hand as the mediculler nods his satisfaction and moves around your bed to your other hand. 
>
>> For one brief shining moment, you want to hit the mediculler.
>> 
>> No, you want to do more than just hit him- you want to punch him hard, stop that mouth of his once and for all. Put an end to the poisoned nicknames, but more importantly halt all his jokes.
>> 
>> You get as far as balling your hand in to a fist before you let the emotion go, immediately chiding yourself on your lack of control. This wasn’t how a soldier acted, getting heated and wanting to lose control. You didn’t like the mediculler, but he was still Imperial property, just the same as you.
>> 
>> But part of you remembers being 5 again, hands and back aching. Under the mercy of medicullers when you had really just wanted to be alone. You don’t remember her name now, but you remember the oliveblood who had monitored you. Remembered her crooning and the way she would pat your head like you were a dog that needed soothing.
>> 
>> You wonder if she’s still working. You wonder if she would be a better caretaker for Daginy or a worse one. But right now, watching Daginy biting their lip and looking about ready to cry again, you aren’t sure she could have done worse.
>> 
>> You watch their hand as they start to move it. It’s such a small thing, the black of their new finger stark against the scarred skin around it. But it functioned- it moved like the rest of them. What else could a troll want? But looking at their face…
>> 
>> They’re blank. It’s not a usual look for them, not these nights. It’s what belongs on you, not Daginy. When they had first come in, you had seen them draw in like this. You had thought that those nights had passed however, banished away with their memories.
>> 
>> That thought gets you to frown, but the mediculler is moving around the bed, towards you. You suppress the urge to talk to Daginy with him so close, just keeping your eyes on them. Seeing if they’d at least look at you, instead of staring at their hand.
> 
> The mediculler repeats the process of unwrapping your other hand. You blink slowly. You should probably make sure the other hand is okay too. It’s like your thought are moving through syrup, as you turn to watch what the mediculler is doing.
> 
> “Right this one looks okay too,” he says, unwrapping your hand. It looks so foreign to you. “Move them for me?”
> 
> You’re not convinced you can, really, but you try and your fingers move, and now none of them feel like yours really, so the not-sensation in your augment doesn’t bother you so much. The pain barely registers.
> 
> “Excellent!” the mediculler exclaims. “It looks like you’re healing up well. Now don’t overexert yourself now or you’ll be here longer. No lifting anything heavier than a spoon, you hear me, sugar?”
> 
> You look up at the mediculler and nod.
> 
> “Aww,” he says with a smile. “Look at you, looking me in the eye and everything.”
> 
> He reaches out and taps your nose with a finger, to which you only blink.
> 
> “Getting better already!” he says. “You know how to call me!”
> 
> He winks at you, salutes Vadaya, and is out the door in a whirlwind.
> 
> When he’s gone, you glance at Vadaya. What does he want from you again?
>
>> Daginy stays… Gone, for lack of a better word. They stare at their hand as it gets the same treatment as the first, not showing any flicker of emotion now at the sight of black steel. You aren’t quite sure what to make of it, not sure how they would react when they return from this state.
>> 
>> They aren’t you, after all. You’d hesitate before you dared to assume they’d  _be_ like you, not like this. Your detachment was a necessity, a learned tool to distance yourself for the sake of your duty.
>> 
>> Daginy would have to come out of this. And part of you was preparing for it to come with a lot of emotions. That had been the norm with them, after all.
>> 
>> The mediculler continues with his cloying saccharine teases, but Daginy isn’t batting an eye. Not until he goes poking them in the nose, and you have to remind yourself to unclench your fist again. Control, control, control.
>> 
>> At least you don’t have to deal with him much longer. He salutes and then he’s gone, back to harassing the rest of the medbay. You feel something unwinding in you that you had refused to acknowledge before, lifting your flesh hand to pinch the bridge of your nose as you took a moment to take a breath.
>> 
>> Then you considered Daginy, dropping your hand again. “Daginy,” you call, watching their face, “say something to me.” This was in over your head, but you were the only one allowed to deal with them. So you would.
> 
> You look over at Vadaya and blink. He wants Daginy- you- to say something to him. You blink, once, twice, then something clears up, a little, out of the haze as you try to think of something to say. 
> 
> “I-I don’t know,” you end up saying. “What- what do you want me to say?” 
> 
> You notice then, as soon as the words are out of your mouth, how out of sorts you are. Are you confused? Upset? You don’t know, and without thinking you bring a hand up to your face and you feel warm metal on your cheek, where you expect your finger, and you flinch, and look at your hand. 
> 
> You pull at your psi, trying to make the illusion come off, but- that’s stupid, because it’s not an illusion, that’s your finger now, because your other fingers are- are- 
> 
> You’re hyperventilating. You don’t want these. You don’t- you don’t- Your hands are free now, and you scrabble at them- these things attached to your knuckles, but your fingers just slide off the thin base, so close to your skin- 
> 
> “ _No_ ,” the word comes out strangled as you start trying to rip off the prosthetics, 
>
>> They aren’t hard to bring back to themselves. At first it seems alright. They talk, even if it sounds a bit lost. They look a bit lost, up until they touch their face and pull back like they burnt themselves. Look at their hand and just… Start to panic.
>> 
>> Rejection of augments happened. Sometimes the body wouldn’t accept the attachments, which was always a shame. But sometimes it was the mind that just  _balked._ At different levels. You should have been prepared for this, with how they were acting before the operation. You’d been foolish.
>> 
>> “Daginy, stop,” you order, standing to let your chair fade. You couldn’t let them destroy themselves, but grabbing them would just set them off worse. You reach out, let your psionics flare to life.
>> 
>> You have to bat their hand off of the other, trying not to grapple with them and cause worse damage. You don’t need much of an opening, if they’ll give it- just enough to slide some of your psionics around their augments, seal them against prying fingers.
>> 
>> “Calm down,” you finish, watching them. What would they do if you thwarted them? They were already hyperventilating. Your eyes searched the sheets for the button, considering your options.
> 
> You get as far as wrapping your hand around the prosthetic when Vadaya says something you’re too preoccupied to hear. When he stands, you pull, but before you can really make a dent in it he smacks your hands apart and you flinch, throwing your arms up to protect yourself from the next blow, only, it never comes.   
>   
> Instead you feel something coalesce on your hands and when you pull away and look it’s Vadaya’s constructs protecting your augments from yourself.   
>   
> You look up at him, bewildered, and afraid as he orders you to calm down. For a split second, you are, waiting to if Vadaya will hit you again if you don’t, but a restless surge of anger you don’t know what to do with kills any calm.   
>   
> “Aaugh!” You throw your hands against the bed in a futile motion to try and shake off the constructs, then try to pry those off too, but you already know it’s pointless.   
>   
> It doesn’t matter what you want. Vadaya was protecting the _thing_ that was latched onto your hands, instead of helping you, and you didn’t _want_ this.   
>   
> You draw your knees in, tuck your feet as close to under you as you can. You fold over into a ball, your hands over your head and your arms pressed to your ears. You can feel the wire for the morphine button bunched up under your feet. Vadaya won’t hit it again without you realizing it.   
>   
> “Leave me ALONE!” you all but shriek, as sobs start to shake your shoulders again.   
>   
> You hate this. You hate feeling so weak and helpless. You just want to be left alone, but Vadaya didn’t the last time you asked- why would he now? It’s just too much. The inevitability strips you to the bone, so now even Vadaya’s gaze burns.
>
>> They raise their arms like they need to shield themselves from you- had you ever done anything to cause them harm? You had, of course. Before, when they were just some rebel that the Empire wanted brought in. But you’d never raised a hand to them since, not until now.
>> 
>> (You could have, part of your mind supplies. No one would blink an eye if you had turned to corporal punishment. Sometimes it was what a troll needed, that extra incentive to obey. To strive towards better. But not Daginy.)
>> 
>> So you stay your hand. And for a moment it almost seems like they’ll obey your command, staring up at you wide-eyed as you stand above them. But it’s a moment of peace that fades quickly back in to anger.
>> 
>> Like a caged dog, snapping futilely against their collar. You hold off on reprimanding them as they bash their hands against the bed, sure that your constructs will protect the augments now. Even their prying just can’t help, now with anything to get a firm hold on.
>> 
>> It’s not long before they’re folding in on themselves, a ball in the sheets screaming at you before they cry. They want you to leave, but you know you can’t. Not when they’re like this. What would your superiors say if you left and Daginy ripped their augments off?
>> 
>> “Daginy listen to me,” you say, trying to keep your voice low and calm over their sobs. “I can not leave you when I am afraid you will harm yourself. But I can give you something to make you sleep. And leave after the sedative has kicked in. Or I can hit the morphine button. But you can not be left alone when you could be a. Danger to yourself.”
> 
> It hurts- everything hurts- your hands pulse and ache with the beating you just gave them and there’s the sense of a void in your chest, that feels like a vacuum, sucking the rest of you into nothingness, as you physically try and press yourself together into something more than.. this. 
> 
> You really don’t want to hear it, what Vadaya says- a danger to yourself- yes, yes you were, you’d tear yourself to pieces and then Vadaya could have what was left, what was the point of being here when nothing you did mattered? You were a pathetic troll and a bad soldier, and you’re probably going to get culled for incompetence sooner than later. 
> 
> You don’t want to deal with this anymore, you don’t and you know that’s bad, and you have to keep going, and that there is no other path forward, and you have to at least try, but the desire to just lay down and give up is growing heavier by the second. 
> 
> “Sleep,” you manage between sobs, still muffled by your knees. It’s not a hard decision. You’d probably just hate yourself on morphine. “Just put me to sleep.”
> 
> If you’re lucky, maybe the mediculler will put something in the IV and you won’t ever wake up. 
>
>> They stay curled in on themselves, shaking and crying long enough that you’re beginning to worry you’ll have to make a decision for them. It feels like an eternity before they can answer, the words warped by their knees and their sobs.
>> 
>> You don’t like seeing them like this. It’s an odd discomfort in your chest, not something you’re used to feeling. You shove it down as you watch them cry, force it away. There’s no time for indecision now, is there?
>> 
>> The syringe from the other night isn’t hard to find, still waiting to be used. You reach for it, uncapping the needle as you approach them. You’re not sure how they’ll feel about the needle, but if they just keep their head down you could prevent them from having to see it.
>> 
>> “Give me your arm Daginy,” you try to keep your voice low now, gentler. You just hope that the rest will help settle their mind again, that they’ll be more rational when they wake. Still, you’ll have to inform the medicullers to keep them sedated for the night. And tomorrow…
>> 
>> You’d have to make sure you were here when they woke again.
> 
> You listen to Vadaya walk around the room as you still occasionally hiccup with a sob. 
> 
> He approaches, speaks low and gentle, and you uncurl slightly, pick up your head and look up at him as you extend your arm. 
> 
> He looks about as impassive as ever, and you spend a few moments looking for something else before you feel pain start to flutter in your chest. You look away before your lips can twitch downward and you start crying again. 
> 
> You don’t even know what you want from him. 
> 
> No- you do- you want him to tell you you’re safe, that things will be okay, that he’ll help and protect you- you want to see some sign he cares about you beyond the duty that he was assigned- you’re just… not sure it’s going to happen, and for all the talk of openness, you know better than to ask. 
> 
> For a brief moment, you hate him, yourself, and everything else that brought you here in this moment, but all you do is tuck your head back into the crook of your other elbow, holding out your other arm for him to take. 
> 
> You just want this to be over. 
>
>> They don’t fight, but why would they? That had asked for this after all. Their arm still seemed so dainty in your hand as you took it with your flesh hand, searching out a vein with a practiced sweep of your ring finger.
>> 
>> You slide the needle home as you listen to their sobs, thumb steady as you slowly drain the drugs in to their bloodstream. You didn’t think it would take long for them to feel it, to fall asleep- but you knew you’d wait until they were definitely unconscious before you left.
>> 
>> Besides, part of you was worried they’d stay curled up like this until they slipped under. You didn’t want them to go slack and injure themselves, fall asleep in a position that would leave them stiff.
>> 
>> You wonder what the mediculler would think of that, a low annoyance still simmering in the back of your head. You pulled back to deposit the used syringe in to the medical waste bin, releasing their wrist with a soft sigh.
>> 
>> “There you are Daginy,” you try to soothe, back to watching them and waiting for the signs of the drug taking effect. “Rest. You will… Feel better with some more sleep.” Maybe if you said it, it’d be true. But if they stayed so destructive over their augments… What could you do?
> 
> He takes your arm in his hand and you feel a curious amount of apprehension as he brushes a finger on the sensitive skin of your inner elbow.
> 
> You hold your breath as you feel the prick of the needle, hear him murmur softly at you. It doesn’t take more than two beats of your pumper before you feel the effects hit you like a sledgehammer to the face.
> 
> It’s familiar, this sensation of fading even though Vadaya’s here, so close, and for a moment you regret your choices as a panicked gasp slips from your throat, as you slide and tilt out of your little ball and black out.
>
>> It’s quick, like you wanted it to be. Just long enough for them to gasp as the drugs take their course and drag them under again. For a moment, you find yourself wishing this wasn’t so hard for them. You don’t know how to support them through this and you’re worried you’re doing wrong by them.
>> 
>> Was there something you could have done to make the transition easier? You couldn’t have kept delaying it, they needed the augments just like everyone else. It wasn’t your choice, you wonder if they realize that. Or perhaps they would wake up angry once again.
>> 
>> You adjusted them so they rested a little more naturally in the bed, careful of their hands. You consider before you tuck the blanket over both of them, straightening to take Daginy in before you head out of the room. You track down the nearest nurse and request that they’re given something to make sure they sleep through the night, that they’re having a bit of difficulty with the transition. That wasn’t too unusual to hear, you’re sure.
>> 
>> And then you leave, trying to push your concerns for Daginy and their future aside. You have papers waiting that needed your full attention. If you started to let Daginy drag you down, you’ll have failed everyone.
>> 
>> But you were determined to be there when Daginy woke again, for better or worse. Early evening found you back in Medical once more, thankfully dodging any sign of a certain mediculler as you let yourself in to their room once more.
> 
> You wake up in a haze, the heavy cloak of drugged sleep slowly sliding off your pan. It doesn’t feel like you’ve slept.. however long it was you’ve been out. You can’t help but be a little disappointed that you’re even awake. Maybe if you slept more, you’d be less tired. You feel like you could sleep for an age, and never have to wake up. 
> 
> You blink slowly as you turn and see Vadaya in the room. 
> 
> “You’re still here,” you whisper, your voice a tremor, seized by the vicious hope that he’s here for you. Did he stay with you? Or did he just come back in time for you to wake up. Is he here just because he wants to see how you’re doing? Or maybe it’s just because of duty. Is he here to make you do more things you don’t want to do? Or ask you more questions about what you can remember, to make sure your loyalty is where it’s supposed to be?
> 
> You slowly push yourself up to a sitting position- your fingers twinging because- well- right. Your hands have been tucked under the blankets but when you draw them out, you see what you expect this time- black fingers made of metal resting where your middle fingers are supposed to be. 
> 
> You tried to rip them off before- but, well. It wouldn’t bring your fingers back. They’ve probably been thrown away and burned as it was. You wonder how many other body parts you’re going to lose before they’re done with you. 
> 
> You keep your eyes down, twisting your hands in the blankets so that they’re hidden from view. It’s an odd sensation, using your hands when two of your fingers are missing sensation, but you guess you’ll get used to it eventually. 
>
>> Their voice is so soft, tinged with something you can’t identify. Or perhaps that some part of you just doesn’t want to accept still, despite the amount of time you’ve spent with them, guiding them. They don’t seem to realize how much time has passed, though you can’t blame them for that- but at least they’re calm.
>> 
>> “I am back,” you correct as softly as you’re able, watching them struggle upwards. You’re about to move to- you’re not sure what, to assist them somehow, but you pause when they pull their hands in to sight, to where they can look at them.
>> 
>> You wait a beat, two. Trying to read their face, their mood this time. They aren’t hyperventilating, there’s no tears. Like you had thought, time had helped them come to terms with the change, but the thought isn’t comforting. You tell yourself it’s because their moods are too volatile, they might get upset all over again soon.
>> 
>> “But I am here now. How do you feel?” You’re pretty this is the first time they’ve woken tonight- they still seem a bit hazy. “I can get you a glass of water, if you are thirsty. I am sure they will be bringing you food soon.” Talking seems the best option- moving on from what you had spoken about the other night, if only for now. You’d have to circle back to their memories soon or later, but for now…
>> 
>> Getting a good idea on their thoughts and feelings seems wise.
> 
> He hovers briefly when you start to move, but he doesn’t touch you and you don’t know what to make of it. He tells you that he’s come back- so he did leave- you don’t know what to make of that either, as you roll your shoulders. You feel stiff like you’ve been still for a long time.
> 
> “How long was I asleep?” you ask as you rub your eyes with the heels of your palms as you try to take account of how you feel. How  _do_ you feel?
> 
> “I’m tired,” you settle on, like you haven’t just slept. You’re hungry and thirsty too- your throat is dry and your stomach is grumbling, but it almost doesn’t seem as pressing as the exhaustion that permeates your bones. “But um, yeah. Water would be nice.” 
> 
> At least he’s not asking you harder questions. You just want to go back to sleep and not have to deal with any of this, but you guess it’s not the most plausible thing to do. You’re going to have to go back for training eventually, and it’s been- two? three? nights in the medbay and you’ll be discharged soon. 
> 
> You clench your fists further into the blankets, missing your fingers. You don’t want to look at your hands. You don’t want to think about any of it. 
> 
> “C-can I get a pair of gloves?” you say, your voice cracking a little. You take a shaky breath and bite your lip. You’re not going to cry  _again_ , over something that’s already done. 
>
>> Questions- that was about their ‘normal’ setting, always questioning. You’d take it over tears any night honestly, even when they press for answers that you weren’t sure how you could give. And these ones were simple, mind still waking up you think after so long unconscious.
>> 
>> “Since last evening,” you answer, trying to count the hours. “It has been some time, but you needed the rest.” And it wasn’t even enough, judging by how they claim to still be tired. Perhaps it was because they hadn’t been given any sopor patches.
>> 
>> “If you are still so tired after your breakfast, I am sure you can sleep again after. Unless they discharge you.” You pause, considering the options there. “And then we will bring you back to your room and you may sleep there.” Would they pull at the augments if you left them alone like that? You certainly hope not.
>> 
>> There’s a jug of water, but it’s tepid when you reach for it. You take the glass to the sink instead, letting it run until it was cool. It was while you were filling the glass that Daginy asked for gloves, and you let it finish filling and turn the water off before you turn around.
>> 
>> “We can get you some gloves,” you promise as you walk over to offer them the glass, taking in the way they bite at their lips, already getting upset. “I can offer you some latex gloves now,” you glance towards the box of them as you say it, the neat little rows. Their hands are so small, but… There were petite sizes, you believe.
> 
> The next evening.. you really had been asleep for awhile. 
> 
> “Okay,” you say, your voice smaller than you would have liked, as you accept the cup, wincing as your middle finger clacks against the glass. You’ll get used to it some day. Some day soon, you hope. You don’t have much of a choice. 
> 
> You drain the cup, the cool water waking you up even more as it slides down your throat, and put the glass on the bedside table. You rub your thumb over you metal finger, drawn to it like a wriggler pressing bruises, even though you just asked for gloves to hide them. 
> 
> “You know I- I had a scar on my middle finger?” you say suddenly. You want to share. It’s weird to think that it’s gone forever, with only your memory of it, but you can share that with Vadaya, at least.  “On my left hand. It ran from here-” you point at your first metal knuckle and trace it back down the side of your finger to the second knuckle, “to here.” 
> 
> You sigh, and mutter, “I wonder what happened.” There was already so much you didn’t remember about yourself. Your scars are all you had of a past you’d forgotten, and now you’re losing those too. 
>
>> A glass of water and a pair of gloves aren’t much to give, but what else can you do? You can’t turn back time and give them their fingers back, you can only urge them to move forward. They’d get used to the additions, and maybe once they actually got to get a feel for how much more they can do with their psionics with the augments…
>> 
>> Perhaps you were being a bit hopeful with that, but you didn’t want them to sink because of the surgery. It had been necessary and they just had to get used to it. Just like so many trolls had done before them and would continue to after them.
>> 
>> You move over to the counter, searching the labels for the smallest size and then plucking them out. That they’re purple is just an unpleasant little twist you suppose as you offer them to Daginy, just as they speak up again. Talk about their finger, what they had lost.
>> 
>> You don’t know how to respond to that. Telling them that there’s no way to know what had happened might upset them further. They had plenty of other scars to wonder over, but they must seem distant in comparison to those they had lost. “I am. Sorry,” you offer, even though your mind tells you you shouldn’t. There’s no need to feel sympathy over improvements. They hadn’t  _lost_ anything, they had gained.
> 
> You take the gloves- purple- like his psi. It’s a little comforting, actually. It’s like the eyepatch he gave you when you were high. It’s like he’s looking out for you. He  _is_  looking out for you. You pretty sure. 
> 
> You pull them on, the latex clinging to your hands in a way you’re not used to- but it disguises somewhat the weirdness of having augments, and the lack of feeling you have in your fingers. 
> 
> Vadaya hesitates on an apology and it’s so unlike him, you look up, a wrinkle in your brow, before it occurs to you that must be how he thought he should respond to an admission like that. You’re not quite sure what you did expect from him, honestly. You think, probably just an “I see,” or something, before moving on. 
> 
> “It’s okay,” you say, and then you pause. You wonder what he’s sorry about. It’s not… it’s not his fault. Are you going to ask? This, you think, you can will. 
> 
> “What are you apologizing for?” you ask, soft and a little hesitantly. You’re not sure what the answer is going to look like. Did he even mean it? Did he just say it to make you feel better?
>
>> It’s not a perfect fit for their hands, the gloves- but it will have to do for now, until you could find them something more proper. You don’t think they’d enjoy having you measure their hands for a proper fit, not after the surgery, but you’ve got a good eye. You think you’ll manage to get them something that will work.
>> 
>> At least they’re managing to look at you know, even if they look a bit lost doing it. Had your apology been so out of place? There’s no way to take it back now, but you regret saying it. There really had been no need for you to feel sympathy for a few lost digits. After all, you had three times as many gone, or at least so reduced that they might as well be gone.
>> 
>> But they want to know why you’re apologizing. They don’t sound angry about it, that you would apologize for something that you brought them to. But that might change too.
>> 
>> “I am apologizing for how rough the changes have been on you,” you answer, because it’s true and it doesn’t feel wrong to think about. “I should have prepared you better for it. I am sorry for this experience.”
> 
> You guess that makes sense, and you nod slowly. You’re not sure what you were expecting there either- Vadaya apologizing for the fact you lost your fingers? It  _was_ what was expected of you, after all, and if you didn’t- you’d be behind, and if you were left too far back- 
> 
> “I don’t- I’m not sure what  _could_  have made this better,” you say slowly. “What was it like for you?” 
> 
> He’d lost even more than you, and he wasn’t crying about it like a wriggler. He was stronger for it too- his psi and strength augmented for the job at hand. How were you supposed to be a soldier if you couldn’t even deal with this? 
> 
> You fiddle with the edge of your gloves. You’re not particularly fond of the feeling, but the less you have to look or think about your fingers, the better. You don’t- you don’t want to die, you don’t think. Not yet. You can’t just give up now, and if you do- well you have to pay for your crimes somehow. 
> 
> “Vadaya,” you begin, and hesitate, your fingers curling around the edge of your blanket as you pull it closer. “Do you think- think that this is worth it? Do you- do you really think I can do this? Be a soldier?” 
> 
> You bite your lip, and glance up at him. It’s weakness you’re showing, like you’re baring your throat- but you have to know. If he thinks you can do it, he’s gotta be right. 
>
>> They wanted to know about your own augments. You suppose they were looking for some comfort in the tale, a show that you had gone through it without as many emotions as they had. Was it true that there would have been no better way to do this? Perhaps if you had given them some readings on the augments, took things a bit slower… But there hadn’t really been time for it.
>> 
>> “I was younger than you,” you say, pulling up the memories a bit reluctantly. “I began with the same set up as you- two fingers. But they also put in my ports at the same time, so healing took longer. I was kept sedated the first few nights, to make sure I did not damage myself. And they needed to keep an eye on me for the nights following, to make sure that there were no issues. But I am Indigo. I healed quickly.”
>> 
>> They still seem so timid, always fiddling and hesitating. You had hoped that training would have smoothed some of the need out- you didn’t hesitate, you didn’t have to always be moving. It seemed rather exhausting to you, but you kept such thoughts buried. Your disapproval might just make things worse for them.
>> 
>> And when they stumble on asking you if this is worth if, if they can be a soldier… Part of you just wants to tell them that it has to be worth it. They have no other options, Zavare sacrificed too much for them to fail. But you controlled yourself, stomped down those impulsive overemotional responses.
>> 
>> “Yes Daginy,” you said instead, as tempered as always. “I know that this is worth it. You have had a hard road, but you are still moving. You can do this. And you are not alone.” You wonder if they would do better if you allowed more interaction with the battery. It’s an option you’ll have to think about.
> 
> His ports and his fingers at the same time- he was indigo yes, but he was also younger. He doesn’t say anything about how he felt at the time- you guess it must be hard to remember that far back, but you can’t help prodding a little further. 
> 
> “You didn’t cry or get mad or try to- to rip them off or anything?” you ask. You’re a little disappointed you think- not that you want Vadaya to have suffered, you don’t want anyone else to feel like this either, but you guess maybe you’re just weak. 
> 
> But Vadaya does tell you he thinks you can do it, and you hold onto that. He says you’re not alone- that you can travel the hard road. You know you’re not alone- but it doesn’t always feel like that, and you nod slowly. You have to believe you can do it too. Or at least you have to try. 
> 
> “Can I have a hug?” you ask, a little nervously. You don’t think he’ll turn you down- you just feel so pathetic, having to ask for something like this because you do feel alone- and maybe a hug will help? Maybe his arms will squeeze you together the right way so you don’t feel that empty ache in your chest. 
>
>> “I did not cry,” you say, because it feels natural to say- you didn’t cry, ever. You don’t have any memories to contradict it. “I did get frustrated. At the process and at the medicullers.” Was it safe to tell them about how you had picked at your augments? It might relieve their own feelings, as long as you made sure to tell them it was foolish to do.
>> 
>> “Most have some difficulties with adjusting to the augments,” you tell them, watching their face. “It is why we have someone around when a troll wakes up. I would… Pluck at the area the augment connected to my hand. But I became used to it and stopped the habit. It is best to avoid bothering them like that, but. I was younger.”
>> 
>> At least they’re taking in your words, even if they don’t look too buoyed by them. You’re getting used to that you think, trying to learn not to expect things that they aren’t going to give. They needed more reassurance than you ever had. You wonder if it’s from their former life, or a product of the rehabilitation.
>> 
>> Still, they’re asking for a hug. You’re pretty sure they have asked for hugs more than any other troll you’ve ever known, but. It won’t hurt you, will it? And if it will get them to calm down… You do hope that they won’t come to rely on the comfort, but for now…
>> 
>> You’re rather sure every hug you’ve ever done is awkward. But you try, leaning over the bed to wrap your arms around them. Try to make yourself less tense, less like you’re about to crush them, or throw them. You’re probably overthinking this.
> 
> The gloves will keep you from picking at your augments you think. It’ll help you can keep going after this. You can get better, and it’s a relief when he says he used to pick at them too- and he’s still a good soldier. 
> 
> He doesn’t say anything in response to your request- he just leans over and wraps his arms around you. It’s not the most comfortable hug position, you guess, but you turn to grip him back in turn. 
> 
> He holds you tightly, and you try to make yourself feel safe in his arms. Vadaya would be here to help you. He would. You hold on for as long as you can, before you let go, and pull back, and you think you feel the tiniest bit better. 
> 
> “Thanks,” you whisper, your fingers clasping together again. You can do this, you think. You can do this. Maybe if you repeat it to yourself enough times you’ll believe it more. 
>
>> You don’t hug trolls very often, and never outside of your battery. And all of them are so much different than Daginy, none of them cling to you like you’re the only thing keeping them from falling in to some great abyss. You don’t know how well of a lifeline you are for a troll, but you know you’re all they have.
>> 
>> You simply have to do better. Failure just wasn’t an option, but you weren’t sure how you were supposed to go about on your task any other way. Not that wouldn’t break them- you had thought you were being gentle. You were just out of your depth, you needed to do more research.  _Something._
>> 
>> But you didn’t have them overcome with emotions yet. You’d have to take what you could get from them until you figured out how to be a better handler. You think you can handle that.
>> 
>> “Of course,” you tell them as you resettle, trying not to focus too hard on what had just happened. If they had gotten what they wanted from it. “You must be hungry,” you say instead, because food is an easier topic. “If they do not bring your meal soon, we will just have to page them. Perhaps something has distracted them.”
> 
> Vadaya doesn’t show any trace of emotion as he pulls away but he does start talking about food, and you’re distracted as your stomach growls. 
> 
> You nod. 
> 
> “Okay,” you say. You still don’t feel very much like eating, but the tiredness you feel is probably at least partways because you haven’t had food. 
> 
> The food comes, and the mediculler comes, and Vadaya’s with you every step of the way as he declare you well enough to be discharged, to come back in case of any complications, and they send you on your way. 
> 
> Leaving the medbay is a relief- it feels like ages since you first walked in, and when you return to your own respiteblock, you take off your gloves, look at your fingers, and stare at them for a very long time. 


	9. Practice

> Working with Daginy sometimes felt like you were trying to dig a hole in the sand. You’d get so far, but a sudden shift would undo so much of your progress. And the tide was at your back, hungry to wash the whole thing away.
> 
> They were still sensitive to a lot of things, still had edges to them that no amount of training could seem to dull away. You like to think that they have grown more confident with their growing strength, that they acknowledge the growing trust that the Empire was putting in them to be a proper soldier. But sometimes it was hard to tell just what was going on in their mind.
> 
> Like what they were doing, giving you envelopes for safe keeping. Telling you not to open them, just to hold on to them. You had a gut feeling it had something to do with the other recruits, but looking in to the envelopes had felt wrong. You had no reason to believe they were doing anything harmful, or treasonous… So you had left them be. But you were curious about them and what Daginy was up to.
> 
> Psionics training had seemed the best time to bring it up, when you had them doing something that so far had not caused much panic. With the inhibitor lowered and the augments installed you thought they were doing a stellar job in learning how to best implement their psionics. You had built them up in to relearning them at first, but then moved on to this- learning how to keep their focus while they had other tasks to complete.
> 
> One night they would have to keep up a veil while in combat. Some use of their skills would be needed and you needed to make sure they knew how to do that. But you also knew you had to go slow. Chisel away slowly at that hole and ignore the waves lapping at your feet.
> 
> The Empire wanted soldiers. And it would not wait forever for you to make Daginy in to one.
> 
> You were back in one of the training rooms, one of the combat dummies in front of you. “Tonight,” You begin, eyes one your recruit, “You will be practicing multi-tasking while using your psionics. You will shield this, and we will see how long you can keep your focus and your psionics going while we speak and move around. Do you understand?”

You  _loved_ working with your psionics. It was something that delighted you, to be able to flex that power, the one thing in your life that was uniquely  _yours_. When the inhibitor was up, you had felt like another hole had been carved into you, and when it was down, you suddenly felt more alive. 

You run your thumbs over the augmentations, the metal fingers built to boost your psionic power. You don’t know how to feel about them. On one hand, they relieved a lot of strain of using your powers. On the other hand, you were now missing more body parts. It wasn’t as though you really had a choice in the matter, anyhow. You’ve settled for being glad you were at least sedated this time around, but it was an uneasy accord you’ve made with yourself over the idea. 

You nod as Vadaya gives you your task. Before your augmentations, it wouldn’t have been all that difficult, but now that you have them, your control has been more or less shot. 

You start with a basic color change, pulling the dummy through the whole rainbow in a second as you overdo it, then letting it change colors to the background. True invisibility had been especially hard on you before and you take a deep breath as you focus on the threads of light, how they travel before they hit the dummy, then alter the light bouncing off the other side to match. The dummy fades from view altogether. 

It’s a like holding onto a string tied onto a brick. The augments gave you a pulley system to lessen the strain, and you nod towards Vadaya again. 

“I’m ready,” you say.

> You stand back silently as Daginy works, keeping your eyes on the dummy. Your psionics were too different for you to really offer much advice, other than what you’ve read on the subject. They manipulated light, something that existed all around you. They bent it to their will.
> 
> Your psionics were just your own power, drawn forth and focused in to the shapes that you needed from it. Asking you to help them with this was like asking a fish on tips for climbing trees. Thankfully their body remembered their psionics well, and what faults they did have were steadied with practice.
> 
> You watch as the colors change, morphing to match the area and then vanishing from there. You return Daginy’s nod, meeting their eyes and then looking back to the place where the dummy stood hidden.
> 
> “Excellent, Daginy,” You say with a bit of pride in the words. They had come far after all, especially with adjusting to the augments. It hadn’t been a simple change-over for you all those sweeps ago, but everyone reacted differently. And it might be that Daginy’s needed some modifications to their own down the road as well. You could only wait and see.
> 
> “We’ll start with a walk. And we will talk as we do. A walk around the room, first,” You say, heading out towards the nearest wall and expecting Daginy to follow. The training room was large, meant for a group of recruits instead of a single pair of trolls. You kept your pace slow and kept one eye on the area the dummy was, looking for weaknesses in the illusion.

You walk along the other side of the room, keeping the tension on the cloaked dummy in the middle of the room. Invisibility was different than keeping the colors changed. You had to stay on top of the environment- if anything passed behind the object and the person looking at it, you had to adjust to fit. It’s not an unfamiliar task, but sometimes you’d slip and let things ripple. 

Walking around next to him won’t let him see you slip up. The trickiest thing about maintaining invisibility is making sure that everyone surrounding an object see the same thing- nothing. 

You pace around so that the dummy is between you and Vadaya, carefully managing the light so that it bounces back the way it’s supposed to. It’ll be something else to practice this until you can do it with only the trace of a thought again. 

“You can see me okay?” you ask, still focused on the dummy. “We can circle around like this and talk.”

> You keep your eyes on the dummy as they begin to move, trying to detect any shift in the air that meant that their control had faltered. So far they seemed to be holding up well, but you wanted to see how long they could cope with the strain. It just meant that you had to keep some focus on Daginy as well.
> 
> You hadn’t trained them this far just to have them burn themselves out after all. Not after they’re finally doing so well.
> 
> “Yes, I can see you Daginy. This will work well.” You glance towards them as you both walk, considering before you decide that throwing them a curveball. They’d have to keep cool under more than just what you were going to ask them after all.
> 
> “I have heard some things,” You say, keeping your voice casual as you walk. “Which have made me wonder about how you have been doing. In regards to your fellow recruits. What have been in those envelopes that you have been having me keep?”

You keep pace, holding that tension, altering as you walk. You however, are  _not_ expecting that question and you nearly walk into the wall, the combat dummy flickering like a video game glitch as you try to recover yourself. 

“I uh,” you say, suddenly occupied on too many fronts. What had Vadaya heard? You haven’t told him about any of the drama in the barracks because you don’t want him to interfere, not to mention the rumors being highly embarrassing. You’ve also not quite told him exactly what you were doing, for fear he wouldn’t approve, even though you were trusting him with your blackmail. 

Vadaya wasn’t stupid, he probably had at least an inkling of what was going on. The instructors had ears, and he probably talked to them fairly often. 

You really should have figured this conversation would have come sooner or later. You mourn for a moment that it had to happen  _now_ , when focus was so important. He did it on purpose, you’re sure. He knew it’d throw you for a loop- you’d have worse scares in combat, after all. You retune your focus on the combat dummy schooling it back to invisibility as you straighten and figure out what you’re going to do. 

“They’re uh, secrets,” you say. “What exactly have you heard?” 

> You aren’t disappointed in their reaction- well. Part of you is, that they’re so easily distracted from the mission you gave them. But you’re able to push that aside for now, remind yourself that they’re still new to this. You weren’t training them like you were trained, you would allow mistakes.
> 
> You disliked that part of you had to keep reminding your thinkpan of that fact. You were no instructor- you didn’t think you had it in you to do what they did. You looked for flaws in Daginy like they did, but you knew that chiseling at their cracks would just shatter them. Your instructors used to like to reference breaking recruits, weeding out the weak.
> 
> Despite Daginy’s faults, their trauma, you knew that they had a deep well of strength in them.
> 
> You stayed silent as they worked on recapturing their focus, just moving along as the dummy finally faded away again. “Keep moving, Daginy,” You remind them, weighing your words. You could tell them, or you could let them dangle. Train them to keep their focus.
> 
> “Secrets. I suspected as much,” You keep your tones even, your gaze level. That wasn’t a lie- you knew it had to be important for them. Something they for some reason did not feel was safe with them or in their room. “The instructors hear rumors from recruits. No matter how sly they think they are, recruits don’t always seem to remember that an instructor is usually lurking on hand.”

You keep moving on, pacing in a circle, holding tightly to that focus as you consider how to answer Vadaya. You cough into your fist, unwilling to let there to be such an awkward pause, when the task at hand was to multitask. 

“What rumors have you heard?” You definitely want to hear about what  _he’s_  heard, before you go spilling anything embarrassing he didn’t strictly need to know. 

It’s not that you want to keep secrets from him, but you’ve found you like having that private spot, to actually have something for yourself no one else knew. 

“The other recruits haven’t been the most cordial, no,” you say. “But we’re working on being um, better friends.” 

With blackmail. And favors. And all sorts of underhanded politics. You don’t honestly think anyone in your cohort genuinely likes you, and you’re kind of okay with that. If they did, then you’d have to explain all this stuff about you that you can’t tell them. 

> They cough, still a bit thrown by your questioning you think. You had the feeling that whatever was going on was something to pay attention to, and it appeared that you were right.
> 
> “Well, it is quite curious. The instructors mostly commented that you seemed to have trouble interacting with the other recruits.” That had been what you had expected to happen, unfortunately. The dangers of being different in an environment that encouraged uniformity.
> 
> “However,” you continue, “I have heard recently that you have seemed to build yourself a circle of recruits. Friends, as you say. It seems to line up with the time you started giving me envelopes.”
> 
> You quiet then, letting the silence hang for a moment. “Those that the instructors noted were some of the trolls they had concerns with about you seem to be your allies now. I wonder about their change of heart, that is all.”
> 
> You weren’t really upset with Daginy over this. Of course they couldn’t fight the other recruits- they would lose to those who had been in training for far longer. Trolls who didn’t flinch away from violence. They had found a way to deal with their tormentors clearly, and… Well.
> 
> You doubt they had been a rebel spy because they had been bad with dealing with problems. That part of them was clearly still quite intact.

He’s clearly figured out what you’ve been doing. Probing you on this during this particular training was just his way of testing your abilities under pressure. 

You laugh a little sheepishly, rubbing the back of your head as you glance at him. He’s as impassive as usual, and he phrases things as mildly as ever. You think he probably doesn’t mind your chosen method of dealing with things, even though it’s not exactly a soldier’s way. 

It only reinforces how much you’re not for the front lines. You have the sneaking suspicion you had been doing similar things on the other side of the law, but on a bigger scale. No wonder they wanted to stop you.  

“Yeah okay,” you admit. “Iiiiiit’s blackmail. And favors. Some of them owe me favors too.”

You glance over at the dummy, still invisible, to Vadaya, to see how he reacts. 

“I still wouldn’t look in those envelopes unless you want to know way too much about the recruits,” you say. “Because as I said, they’re full of secrets. That are not mine.” 

> They don’t bother trying to deny it- you wonder if that’s because they don’t want to lie to you or simply because they know you know enough about what’s going on to see through the lies. Still, it makes you feel a little less tense about it no matter the reasoning.
> 
> They’re perhaps a little embarrassed over it, but they don’t seem too nervous as they confirm your thoughts. No amount of training could remove a leopard’s spots and you had always known that this sort of thing was Daginy’s talent. Blackmail. Favors. Information.
> 
> “Well, I have said it before and it remains true. Knowledge is power, a weapon. It is not a bad lesson for your fellow recruits to learn. Perhaps it might even teach them a little humility,” You can’t help the slight edge of humor that creeps in to your voice. But part of you is… Oddly pleased that Daginy has found a way for themselves that did not mirror your own. You didn’t question why.
> 
> “I told you I would not look in the envelopes and I have kept that promise,” You assure, voice returning to its usual neutrality. “However, you have given me more reason to avoid doing so. I have no desire to know what sort of secrets wrigglers keep.”

You grin back at him, your attention on the dummy flickering enough for there to be a shimmer before you grab hold of it again. He seems downright  _pleased_ for you to be blackmailing your fellow recruits, and even though you can’t imagine why, you can’t help but preen a little on the inside.

“Yeah,” you say, thinking about your cache of secrets. “You really don’t want to know. Maybe they’ll learn to keep more to themselves after this. And maybe not to underestimate the little guy.” 

You honestly have enough material to screw over the social dynamics of half the cohort, not that you’ll do it- you’re blackmailing them only just enough to keep yourself safe. And you ended up having to  _keep_ adding to your pile of envelops because separate groups of people kept bothering you. No one wanted to talk about being blackmailed after all. 

> Another slip of their control, noted before they can bring their psionics back under control. Some part of you wonders if your way of training them will produce a weak soldier- what was motivating them to keep improving? Would it be enough when push came to shove?
> 
> A flicker like that in the field could lead to disaster. But this wasn’t the field, and Daginy was still learning how to use their new augments. They were good, and you did your best to quiet the part of you that had been trained to look down on mistakes.
> 
> “I will take your word for it,” You say, refusing to let your mind wonder about it any further. Social dynamics were frustrating enough at time for you without adding these new layers to them. Daginy clearly took to them like a fish to water, but that wasn’t your way. And you doubted they were doing anything too bad to their fellow recruits or else they wouldn’t be letting you in on it.
> 
> “How are you feeling?” You ask, stilling your steps to watch them. “Are you starting to feel any strain? We do not want to have you burning out.”

You slow when he slows, asking after your health, like you’re liable to drop. You shake your head emphatically. You’re not  _fragile_ , despite your size, demeanor, and freak outs.

“No, no, I’m not even close to being done,” you say. It is a strain yes, but invisibility always was, and it was the most useful of your skills. You need to practice more.

The augments helped too, no matter how weird it was to get used to. Holding onto the cloak like this wouldn’t be that useful in open combat, invisibility needed to move for real versatility, and you can’t see what you cloak. But it was excellent practice for practicing your multitasking abilities and testing your limits.

You want to know how far you can go. You’re starting to get the knack of it, of how to adjust the light in response to the movement, like a relay through vibration. It’s a little like muscle memory you think.

You start forward again.

“What was training your powers like, Vadaya?” you ask. His set was so different than yours, after all. You doubt he ever had to pace around a room, trying to maintain invisibility on a dummy.

> They say they’re fine and sound sure of it, so you don’t push. They don’t look too overclocked yet and despite the flicker of the invisibility before you thought you could believe them.
> 
> Besides, this was good for them. Not only for the practice but to help build up their confidence in their abilities. You both needed to see what they were able to do and for just how long they could do them. You knew they had potential and a lot of it, but pure talent could only carry a troll so far. Especially in your corps.
> 
> You start moving a heartbeat after they do, eyes watching for another reappearance of the dummy. You should have expected some questions thrown back at you- you knew well by now that Daginy was always filled with them. But your own training?
> 
> Your mind goes back to those sweeps easily enough. Holding constructs until every little bit of psi was squeezed out of you in endurance tests. Forced to work in blistering heat and extreme cold because there was no telling where you might be sent. Learning to keep your focus even if you were injured, while you were being injured-
> 
> “A lot of studying, early on,” You say, the words coming out a bit detached. “In order to construct something, it is best to have a clear image of what it is that I am building. From there, it was practice. Learning how best to control my thoughts and my psionics to build what I wanted. Like with your training, there was a lot of importance in keeping my focus. Control is key.”

It makes sense- you bet Vadaya reads up on a lot of instruction manuals. You think of the wheelchair he constructed for you the first day, the way he tested it- unless he knew every part of it, there’s no way he could have built it.

There’s something odd, though, about the way he speaks about it, his pauses a little longer, the words coming out a little like they’re rote memorized. You hesitate, wondering if you’ve touched on a nerve, still carefully sparing the brain power to keep the cloak on the dummy.

If you didn’t know better, it would remind you of you, when you get distracted by an errant touch, or get tripped up by a phantom thought.

“Is everything alright, Vadaya?” you ask, still a little nervous you might have misstepped.

> You were expecting more questions about training. How long it took you to master the augments perhaps, or just about your psionics. You weren’t ready for them to ask you if you were  _alright,_ that nervous tinge to their voice letting you know they really thought something was wrong.
> 
> This was what you got for allowing yourself to get tripped up on memories.
> 
> “Of course, Daginy. My apologies if I worried you,” You say, making sure that your voice is more natural. Less troubled. “It is just hard to remember the beginning of my training very clearly. It was a long time ago for me now.” 
> 
> It wasn’t a lie, just not the true answer to their question. It had been a long time since you were that scared little wriggler that had been cursed with psionics that didn’t fit your hue. But you had learned your role well, hadn’t you? Every instrument had their purpose, even one like you.

Vadaya’s voice smooths out, working back to it’s usual evenness and you relax, giving him a nod. The invisibility hasn’t faltered this time, you notice, which sets a pleased sense of pride burning in your chest. It’s too early to celebrate however- you know you still have to improve until it’s effortless. 

“How long have you been training?” you ask. You know he’s about three sweeps older than you. You wonder how long it’s taken him to get as far as he is. You doubt you’ll ever be able to follow in his footsteps, chained down by your criminal past, but you want to know how much catching up you’re doing. “How long have you had your augments?”

Sometimes training could feel so absolutely slow in your improvements, but you’ve realized they’ve been trying to shove a square peg into a round hole. 

There’s no reason for a soldier to know how to jerry rig a basic set of lock picks from a paperclip and a safety pin, or not have any combat ability, or have psionics that have no offensive capabilities, and you really doubt you just played support on the field, if they took you for your smarts. You were a spy, in your last life, and you were probably high ranking or something, on the other side of the war. 

Obviously, they wouldn’t ever use you as a spy, but there had to be some other reason besides your abilities in combat. Probably political, honestly, though you don’t know enough to say for sure. 

> These were the questions you were expecting, had been trying to prepare your words for. It was one that came up often enough in your life, from trolls who knew your rank and your age. It came with a lot more derision than Daginy’s simple curiosity, and the answer usually made others view you differently.
> 
> “I was an unusual case,” You begin with, keeping your eyes on the dummy’s area instead of Daginy. “I was brought in younger than most. I had just reached my third sweep when I was outfitted with the inhibitor, as you were when you were stable enough for it.” It’s so tempting to let your mind go on auto-pilot on topics like this. Most trolls either didn’t notice or simply didn’t care to notice when you did, but Daginy’s earlier concern made you focus on your words, your tone.
> 
> “I was around five when it was finally deemed time for me to have my augments and ports put in. I am nearing my twelfth sweep now, so I have had them for seven sweeps.” Over half of your life, and much of the sweeps that you could remember distinctly. You could barely remember a time where there hadn’t been metal in your hands, in your neck.
> 
> You let that thought fade, pushed it back down in to the depths of your mind. They had done to you what had needed to be done. Your young age had been an advantage, you had been able to grow around your machinery. Your extra sweeps of training had allowed you your position, properly groomed for command.
> 
> Without the Corps, where would you be now? Who would you be? Either dead or  _nothing._ No one. You owed the Empire for everything you had. You were  _thankful._

You’re surprised he was so young- You try to think about what it might be like to be that young and do this training– but you can’t remember that far back, and you wrestle for a moment with that void when the dummy flickers, and you catch yourself before you lose it entirely. 

“You don’t remember much from before service either,” you joke. It wasn’t the same, clearly, but you shared that at least. Still, you think he remembers  _something–_ he confirmed your question about the church all the way back when. 

You’re suddenly full of longing for something you can’t have, and a burning curiosity.  

You hesitate, then ask. “What  _do_ you remember? From before I mean. What is it like outside of this place? What was your hive like? Did you have any friends?” 

You’ve never asked before, and Vadaya never talks about it, but you don’t  _think_  the topic is forbidden. It’s not  _your_  past, after all. And he answered the question about mirthful messiah’s and you’ve met Xrus (you wonder what your lusus was or if Vadaya even knows). Still, you keep an eye on him, and your dummy, and try to make sure you’re not overstepping boundaries.

> They seemed a little surprised when you actually took a moment to look at them, but that was fine. You could deal with surprise a lot easier than you could disgust. Or  _pity._ Some trolls just refused to see how much of a boon your extended sweeps of training were.
> 
> “No,” You respond to their joke, “I do not.” You would have been more than content to let the conversation end there but Daginy was, as always, curious. In that hesitating, wary way of theirs, like they were having to maneuver through a field of land mines.
> 
> But you suppose you couldn’t blame them for that. Not really. And their questions about your past were just questions. Wishing to know about someone’s wrigglerhood because of the lack of knowledge of their own, perhaps.
> 
> “I do not remember much of my time before I was brought in,” You admit, voice trying to edge back towards detached blandness as you combed through the fragmented memories. What you did remember, you often wished you  _didn’t. “_ I do not remember my hive, if I ever owned one. Before this, I lived in a creche with other Indigo wrigglers. I had. A friend.”
> 
> You didn’t remember her name now. Her face. She was a phantom of a different life, a different you. All you remember was that first connection to your psionics had been because of her. The sight of all that purple as you had speared her with your first shoddy construct.

You hear something in his voice you can’t quite place, but he doesn’t seem to be upset at all, and he was answering your questions rather readily. You think it might just be the result of talking about things from so long ago for him. 

Still allotting part of your concentration to the dummy, you continue your questioning. 

“A friend?” you ask. “What was she like? Were you sad to leave her? You left because you found out you had psionics right? What was that like?” 

You remember that snippet of conversation from the first day, that he had left the church for his psionics. You wonder how you figured out your own- a surprise? Had you always known? Your second realization had been a deduction in a hospital bed, which you don’t think was the standard experience. 

> You weren’t enjoying how deep in to their questioning they’re getting. Being reminded of your time before the military was bad enough, you weren’t used to being asked about it. Your battery didn’t pry in to your past, just as you didn’t pry about theirs.
> 
> “I do not remember much about her anymore,” You reply, feeling your lips tug down in to slight frown. “I was young when we separated, but. I believe that I was sad.” You weren’t going to think about your emotions on leaving. You felt yourself distancing your mind from the memories, focusing outward. On your footsteps, on the dummy.
> 
> “It was frightening. I did not know what was happening to me, after all. Only that it was not chucklevoodoos.” You can’t help the ice that slides in to that last sentence, but you make it warm again before you continue. “But I was not suitable for the church. So I was taken here.”

You’re treading into dangerous territory. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen Vadaya this upset- he’s frowning,  _frowning_ , and you could hear the barest echo of hollowness in your voice, and you were the cause. You knew, really, that it was most likely the memories that were upsetting to him, but what if he got mad at you for asking the questions? You still haven’t forgotten how easily he could kill you. 

You grapple with the anxiety, the invisibility wavering again as you try to get your thoughts straight. You wonder if he still wishes for chucklevoodoos, if he has any regrets about being in the military, if he had a choice in coming (you don’t think so, the way he talks about it), but you’re not brave enough to ask any of those questions. 

“I uh,” you manage. “Sorry. Tough subject?” 

You school your thoughts back down. Vadaya’s not going to hurt you for asking a few questions. He’s not. He wouldn’t. You start to sound too much in your head like you’re trying to convince yourself, so you just watch for Vadaya’s reaction instead. 

> You don’t realize that they’re reacting so strongly to you until you notice the warping of their illusion, worse now. You pause your steps to watch them, immediately chiding yourself for letting your emotions leak out. You knew that they looked to you for stability, looked for your approval. You had encouraged it, you needed to keep them in your mind when you acted.
> 
> “It can be,” You admit, making sure your tone is back to usual. “But it is alright. You could not have known, and I did not share that it was a difficult thing for me to remember. There is no need for you to apologize for something like that.”
> 
> You hope that’s enough to soothe their worries. Their worries that they shouldn’t be having, because you should have been controlling yourself better. They probably thought you were upset at them. 

You grab onto the invisibility more firmly again- there had to be an easier way of doing it- the different angles of the dummy were getting to be a little wearing- you adjust the invisibility to cylinder instead of a smooth fitting cloak and instantly the load is easier to manage. 

That, along with Vadaya’s reassurance is enough to get you to smile at him, relieved. 

“Does that mean I can keep asking?” you say, only a little cheeky. You’re still not feeling secure enough to ask your questions, and you laugh a little nervously as you continue to pace around the room. 

The nature of the motion was beginning to feel somewhat predatory, instead of a regular exercise, and you pick up the pace, just a tad, despite the fact it probably wouldn’t help the feeling. Just a little, to feel a little safer- there was no need to run. The point was to stay on opposite sides of the dummy anyway, and you were going to keep invisibility up until you couldn’t anymore. 

> They smile, try to joke, but there’s still an edge to it. One that lingers in their laugh, letting you know that thoughts were still swirling in their head. You’re only dulled the edges of their worries, but it was a start. You thought you were getting better at soothing them, but it could be difficult.
> 
> Of course it could be. Some of the times Daginy didn’t even know they were going to panic until it was  _happening._ You dealt with it, however. Of course you did, it was your duty.
> 
> “I do not think I could stop your questions,” You say, letting a tinge of humor shine through for a second. “They are never ending. But if you wish to ask, perhaps change the subject of your questions.”
> 
> They suddenly change their pace, a casual enough shift that still puzzles you. But you remain at your steady pace for now- it was easy enough to rebalance things if they get too far ahead. It was not as if they could do anything worse than meet back with you after all.

You nod, swinging your arms, as you walk- he hasn’t adjusted his pace at all, and you slow again. There was no point in speeding up- you’d only catch up with him, and the more distance you had between you, the safer you were. The point was to keep the dummy  _between_ you, you don’t need to let your freak outs ruin the exercise. 

You need to calm down. You’re sure he’s noticed how un-calm you’re starting to get, and if you get too worked up over nothing right now, you’re going to have another attack, and you’ll have to stop training, again. 

You walk in silence for awhile, taking deep breaths, stubbornly maintaining the invisibility cloak on the dummy, as you rub your palms together. Your augments clank together and you’re reminded of your missing fingers, and you put your hands back down at your side and force yourself to think about the task at hand. 

The point is to multitask. Walk, talk, invisibility. You still need to talk. He’s welcoming more questions, but he’d rather change the subject, which you understand- but nothing else immediately comes to mind. 

“I uh,” you say. “Pick a subject?” 

> You have to divide your attention between the dummy and watching them, the way they had to focus on their breathing, the nervous rub of their hands. If they were closer, you might have put a hand on their shoulder, try to ground them from their worries.
> 
> But you weren’t, and this exercise was about holding on to their psionics no matter what. You just had to tell yourself that this was good practice for them, though you hoped they would not  _panic_ on the battlefield.
> 
> They ask you to pick a subject, and you have to take a moment to decide on one. You preferred subjects that you thought were  _safe,_ but those were hard to come by. “What about more recent events,” You settle on, deciding it would be a topic that would rouse their curiosity.
> 
> “I have been with my battery for nearly three full sweeps now,” You say, trying to give them something to focus on other than their nerves. “Zavare and Casman were veterans of other batteries, but Nanako and I were fresh graduates. Zavare started out as our Battery leader. To allow me time to adjust to the dynamics and learn from them before I took command.”

Zavare. Casman. Nanako. Vadaya. 

The four members of Vadaya’s battery, one of whom had been removed from duty- Zavare, you think. The one who had been commander before Vadaya. He’s told you about Casman and Nanako before, but not his former commander, who he had mentioned had been disabled in a fight. 

“What happened to Zavare?” you ask. “They’re the one who was injured, right? Did they streamline you into a command?” It seemed kind of weird to give the more inexperienced member the leadership role, and you think caste might have played into it. But Vadaya had been groomed for the role, since his third sweep, it made sense that they’d want to best use the indigo psion to his full potential. And he’s obviously done quite well for his battery if they carried on for three sweeps. 

It’s easier to breathe with a task in front of you, something concrete to focus on, something solid things in front of you to analyze and move and get  _done,_  rather than the anxious turmoil of racing thoughts and sweaty palms.

You glance back over at Vadaya again, settling back down, even if you are feeling a little jittery. The sensation of being  _hunted_  hasn’t quite gone away, but it has eased up a bit, as your  breathing settles and Vadaya gives you a bland, safe topic to latch onto. 

> “They were injured in a mission,” You say, keeping a careful control of your tone now that they were back to asking questions. “Their hip was damaged enough that they were forced to step down from the front-lines.”
> 
> You wanted to frown at saying it, but you kept your face as blank as it was when you were in front of a General, focusing on taking even steps and watching Daginy. “They were never really meant to be in command- it was not in their nature. My battery was built with my command in mind, they were merely there to help me learn what parts of being in a battery there were that my training could not teach me.”
> 
> Speaking of the past was  _easier._ You couldn’t help wanting to remember the good times rather than the state of your battery as it was now. A lot hinged on your ability to train Daginy up if another recruit couldn’t be found that would mesh well with your battery.
> 
> At least you thought Daginy was looking a bit less panicked. Wriggler steps. “Are you starting to feel the strain, keeping your psionics going so long?” You ask, not stopping this time to take in their condition. “You have had a few slip-ups, but you seem to be able to control them well thus far.”

You nod, still taking deep breaths, still controlling your pace carefully, but you think you’ve successfully avoided another panic attack. Win.

You listen carefully when Vadaya answers, nodding. It makes sense- that they put him in charge, that they did everything the did to create a functioning battery, up until Zavare was injured.

You guess you have big shoes to fill- if you even get placed with Vadaya’s battery in the first place. You hope you do.

You hesitate when he asks you how you’re doing- you are starting to get tired, but-

“I can keep going,” you say. “It’s not that bad yet. Plus I think I found an easier way to keep up invisibility.”

Before the augments you probably would have had to have dropped it by now. You want to know how far you can go.

“What are Nanako’s and Casman’s powers?” You ask.

> They sound sure of themselves, more stable now that they’ve had some time. You try to consider it an improvement, tell yourself that they’re learning to control themselves again.
> 
> “Alright,” You concede with a nod of your head. “I can understand wishing to know your limits. But if it begins to hurt, stop.” You didn’t want them to burn themselves out when they were so early on in their training. They had a long way to go- you hadn’t even  _discussed_ steroids- but you’d see them get there.
> 
> At least they were learning how best to use their psionics. Practice like this would be best for them, though you were sure they did their fair share of exploring in their own time as well.
> 
> “Nanako is able to augment her strength and durability with her psionics. She is a front-line soldier like I am. Casman projects pure blasts of concentrated energy from her eyes. Though she prefers to call them…” You trail off, continuing with a tiny edge of humor- a long-known joke. “Eye lasers. She is capable of strong bursts, but can not really take hits like Nanako or myself can.”

“Alright,” you say with a nod. “No burning out. I am getting pretty used to it.” 

You don’t feel any pain, though you are getting kind of tired. It’s a kind of tired you’re used to, sometimes, when you don’t take extra sopor to sleep better and you wake up through the day, and you’re still tired the coming night. 

The sides of your mouth quirk upwards. 

“Eye lasers?” you say. There’s something whimsical about the phrase, as you think about how your powers could fit tactically into the rest of the battery. You could make Vadaya’s constructs blend in better- he could give physical form to your illusions. You could assist Nanako pretty well on the front lines, making illusory copies, delaying how the light moved with her for long enough her opponents could mispredict. You could make sure Casman stayed hidden long enough to strike, so she didn’t have to take many hits, if at all, to do  _her_ job properly. 

You think that’d work out okay. 

“Do you think I’d fit well into the rest of your battery?” you ask Vadaya. “Tactics wise, I mean.” 

> “Yes,” You say, taking in the attempt of a smile. “Her, ah. ‘Super cool eye lasers’, if you allow her to gush.” Casman might be the oldest of your battery now, but she could still be a bit wrigglerish. It was just one of the things that made her  _her._ As long as she controlled her mouth around superiors you found it harmless enough.
> 
> But you were admittedly a bit biased when it came to your battery.
> 
> You settle in to a thoughtful silence when they ask about their compatibility, though you don’t take long to decide what to say. “Of course Daginy. Your psionics have many uses to a battery. This cloaking that you are doing now is just one of the facets of your abilities that make you work well as a support for my team.”
> 
> You gesture towards the area of the dummy, keeping your eyes on Daginy. “Illusions,” You continue after a beat. “You can make us harder to predict in a battle. You can make us more intimidating, correct? An enemy might think twice about doing combat with a full team of indigos. Or who can seemingly form monsters. If we can strike fear in to them, they will not fight as well. They may not fight at all.”
> 
> It happened, rebels who thought turning themselves in would mean they were granted some leniency. It made your job easier at the very least.

You nod. Misinformation and misdirection were still your strong suits, after all, not straight combat. If you could make your enemies run, you might win a battle all by yourself. 

“I can shield your constructs too,” you say. “We could practice that together. It’s easier for me to create illusions off solid objects too.”

You’ve been practicing, paying attention the outlines of those around you, recreating them via illusions. Moving them could be tricky though, especially when you were doing things free handed. Sometimes they looked off center- uncannily unreal. You’ve done a lot of jumping around in the privacy of your ablution block in front of the mirror. 

“I’d like to watch you guys train some time?” you ask hesitantly. “If I can.” 

You’d need to be able to watch for some time before you could convincingly replicate them doing anything besides stand there. In whatever test you’ll be doing to see if you would work well together, you’d have to be able to perform to the best of your ability. 

Still, you haven’t really met anyone else besides your fellow recruits, and you all knew how that went. You’re not sure if you’re ready for that yet, still nervous about meeting new people, especially Vadaya’s  _battery._

> “Yes we can,” You agree, filing the idea away for another night when you didn’t already have them pouring their focus in to practice. “It could be some interesting training for the both of us.” It wasn’t every night that you worked with something that augmented your psionics. It could be an enjoyable change of pace, working with someone like that.
> 
> Usually with your battery if they were using your constructs, it was more practical- shields for defense, platforms for maneuverability. You were curious now to see what the two of you could do now.
> 
> You banish the thoughts when you hear them speak again, tones back to concern. Like you might be upset at them taking an interest in your battery. Or perhaps just nervous about being near them at all. It wasn’t like they had interacted much, not without you allowing it.
> 
> No. Daginy was your ‘pet project’ and they respected that and didn’t wish to do anything to interfere. But perhaps it was getting to be time to introduce them properly.
> 
> “Of course you can,” you assure them, threading it with a bit of warmth to show you were pleased with their interest. “I am not sure when as of yet, but I will make sure that you are able to watch us train some night soon.” If that went well, hopefully they would be more welcoming to the battery. And vice versa.

You smile, pleased that Vadaya was pleased with the idea. You’re still nervous at the idea of actually meeting his teammates though. You feel like you’ve built them up in your head, that they’re not going to like you, or decide you’re not going to be good enough to work with them, or have a problem with you former life. 

“Once you make something, can you adjust it?” you ask. His creations could be downright artful, delicate and precise- you’ve watched him create enough chess sets to see for yourself. Pairing it with your illusions you could make them look real. You could pattern your illusions off the way he moved his constructs. “Like a big scary monster machine or something.” 

You yawn, tears springing to the corners of your eyes that you wipe away with a thumb, still keeping an eye on the illusory cloak you’ve set on the dummy. You’ve come this far- you’re not going to let it drop now because you have to rub your eyes. 

> This smile is wider than the last, back to feeling comfortable with you and their surroundings. Good- the more they were able to master their emotions, the better. And the less amount of training they missed because you both had to stop to wrangle their emotions.
> 
> “I can,” you say, raising a hand as your eyes begin to glow bright magenta. You just form a simple sphere above your hand, letting it remain long enough for them to see before you filled it out, gave it edges until it became a cube.
> 
> “There are very few limits that I have with such things. I could do something like a machine and make it move with just a little concentration. I merely have to remain within a certain radius of the construct. Too far away and they lose shape.” You take their yawn in with a bit of curiosity, slowing your pace just a bit to watch them more closely. Sometimes you forgot that not all trolls take to burning out as violently as you do.

Vadaya slows but you push on. Yes, you were getting sleepy– you didn’t sleep through the entire day, but that was no reason to slack off. You’re not going to be treated with the wriggler gloves forever, nor do you want to be. You have your hang ups, yes, you’re small, you flinch a lot and hate combat, and your panic attacks are frequent, but dammit you were good at  _this_ , your own unique psi, and you don’t need coddling  _here_. 

You make sure your invisibility stays firmly in place as you nod at Vadaya. 

“Making illusions is easier when I have a template,” you say. “Especially for the first time I try something, and it’s something complicated. Like a person. Or if it moves in particular ways.” 

Translating what you were thinking to an actual illusion in front of you was a lot harder than another person might imagine. You’ve tried drawing out what you want to create before you try, but you’ve found you’re not particularly artistic either.  It was much much easier to rely on templates and your psionic memory for the movements, shapes and colors.

> “I see,” You say, thinking of how different your psionics were. But then, the templates were all locked away in your head- you just had to drag them out to know what it was to create. Coming up with things on the fly however was a possibility, as you often did with your chess sets.
> 
> For some reason, your thinkpan had a creative streak in it still. But you supposed you had to be thankful for it. Your psionics wouldn’t be as useful without it after all.
> 
> You let your psionics fade and let your pace pick back up to its earlier gait when you notice that they’ve kept at it. Their stubbornness would serve them well at least, but you were keeping your eyes on them now. You didn’t need them suddenly passing out and cracking their face to pierces on the floor after all. Would they let themselves get worked to that point? Or did they not recognize the signs of their psionics anymore?

Before you realize it, you’re channeling all your effort into maintaining invisibility and putting one foot in front of the other. You’ve been walking in silence for a while even, without picking up the conversation part of the multitask. Your eyelids have been drooping uncharacteristically, and you’re so  _tired_. 

How long have you been silent even? You open your mouth to ask if you’re leaving that part of the exercise, that maybe you should stop now because- and then suddenly you’re falling, the world tilted sideways. 

You’ve got the presence of mind to catch yourself, staggering, to your knees, as you feel the invisibility evaporate, the removal of the strain just in time to feel exhaustion that hits you like a brick wall. Lying on the floor seems inappropriately tempting right now. 

You were supposed to be  _training._ Not lying on the ground. You try to bring up the invisibility again, but you can’t find a spark of– oh. 

You burned out. 

“Well It didn’t hurt,” you mumble, blinking slowly, sitting back and swaying. You’re not going down just yet. 

> They slow, and then they’re stopping. You find yourself mirroring them, just taking in the way their eyelids struggle to fall against their will. It’s only a second before they’re crumbling, but at least it isn’t straight on to their face.
> 
> The dummy flickers back to life just in time so you could avoid it as you cut across the room to their side. They say it didn’t hurt, and they don’t seem to be injured- there’s no blood at least. Just clear exhaustion that seemed to settle more heavily over them with every moment.
> 
> As far as possible burn outs went, it was mild. But you hadn’t meant for it to happen.
> 
> “We know your limits now at least,” you offer as you kneel down beside them. They’re wavering like they’re about ready to pass out at you at any moment and you can’t help the slight  _concern_  that rises. “Welcome to burn out Daginy. You do not hurt. You are very tired, but how else do you feel?”
> 
> You wondered if they would be able to rise. You had to get them back to their room at the very least, perhaps to a mediculler to make sure they were truly alright. If you had to carry them you doubted they would like it.

Vadaya kneels next to you, speaking softly, confirming your suspicions about burn out and asking how you feel. You  _do_  know your limits now. When you get overly sleepy, you guess you shouldn’t ignore it. 

“Tired-” you mumble. Tired just about covers it. “Like I haven’t slept in a perigee.”

Your head feels so heavy. Without even thinking you reach out and tilt, and put your head in Vadaya’s lap, curling up as your eyelids get heavier every time they close- and you’re blinking a lot. You’re just going to rest there for a minute– then you can go back to your block. 

You’re asleep before you know it. 

> You aren’t sure how it is you keep ending up like this- Daginy leaning against you in some way. This wasn’t for comfort, the exhaustion physical instead of emotional. You watch them, the rapid blink of their eyes finally giving way to slumber.
> 
> Out like a light. And judging by how they passed out, not about to wake anytime soon either. You can’t leave them like this, nor could you really bring them to the barracks like this. They’d never live it down to have you carrying them in like that, the  _talk._
> 
> It doesn’t take you long to make a decision to scoop them up, though  _how_ takes a little longer. But they’re shorter, smaller- you loop an arm around their knees and their back and it’s barely a strain on you to lift them. The medbay wasn’t too far away, and if anyone saw you, well.
> 
> You liked to think your face alone told them to keep their mouths shut.
> 
> * * *
> 
> You were told they’d be fine, just simple exhaustion burnout. A good night and day of rest in a coon and they’d be good as new. Their psionics would perhaps take a bit longer to recuperate completely, but you had been sent away for the night with the assurance that the medicullers would take care of them.
> 
> It didn’t stop you from heading back the next night to fetch them back however, face carefully neutral as you waited in the reception area as one of the assistants went to get them. You could only hope they weren’t too upset over waking up in the medbay once more.

You’re mostly just embarrassed, honestly. When you woke up in the medbay, you flipped out– you  _did not_  like being in the medbay. It took you a minute to check that you still had all your limbs and remember why you were there- you weren’t in pain, did you have to be sedated after a panic attack? No, you just burned out and fell asleep on Vadaya’s  _lap._

The medicullers aren’t to let you out of the medbay without an escort still– you’re still not trustworthy enough, so you try to find the words to apologize to Vadaya, you think, for not paying attention to your own psi levels, for being embarrassing enough to fall asleep on him, for interrupting the exercise that you should have already stopped earlier. 

You got too caught up in stubborn pride in  _not_  being helpless, and you ended up in the medbay, sleeping for a day’s worth, waking up with half a spark and killer headache. Still, you think Vadaya might just tell you you have no need to apologize. He’s only ever accepted them a handful of times. 

Vadaya’s waiting for you in the lobby as you approach, sheepish. 

“Hi Vadaya,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck. Despite your earlier deliberation you don’t particularly know what you’re going to say. “Sorry about falling asleep on you?” 

> You definitely don’t miss how self-conscious they look as they cross the lobby towards you. Being embarrassed was preferable to them panicking, however. You’d instructed the medicullers to call if they fell in to a full blown panic attack, but it seemed that you hadn’t needed to worry.
> 
> “Good evening Daginy,” You return, watching them. Their awkwardness doesn’t fade, instead gets amplified as they turn an apology in to a question. You had wondered if they would remember what had happened, but that solves that mystery.
> 
> “It is alright,” You say with a slight shake of your head. “I should have been more aware of your symptoms of burn out and stopped you before you pushed too hard.” You should have realized that there was the possibility that they had forgotten how it felt to burn out, but they had remembered so much else about their psionics that you had become complacent.
> 
> “How are you feeling now?” You ask, looking them over more carefully now for signs of discomfort.

He doesn’t take the apology, like you expected. You’re really not sure if it’s his fault at all, really. He couldn’t have known– it’s not like you had done it before.

“Well,” you say. “We both know now. Burnout for me looks like sleep deprivation.”

You wonder what it looks like for him. From his assumption that it would hurt, you can’t think it’s good.

“Still have a headache,” you say, shifting under his scrutiny. “Can’t psi worth a spark. And I’m still like a little tired but it’s fine. And they gave me some painkillers.”

You hate being in the medbay. You always feel like a bug under a microscope, some kind of specimen to examine, something for the docterrorists and medicullers to poke and prod and move around like you’re a little play thing.

Which, you guess, technically you’re imperial property, but you hate looking at it like that. The feeling is always worse here. You rub awkwardly at your elbow, breaking his gaze and looking at the ground, then glancing back up through your eyelashes.

“I’m fine, really,” you say. “Can we get out of here?”

> You nod at their words,some tenseness in your shoulders relaxing. “We do,” You agree, mind churning away. “We’ll both what for your symptoms and in the future, we will prevent this from happening.”
> 
> A headache and not being able to spark. They definitely got off a lot lighter than you did, especially for draining themselves completely. You would have started bleeding from the nose when they had started just feeling tired. You always tried to keep yourself from going past that point of burn out though.
> 
> Sometimes it couldn’t be helped to push a little further though, until the strain bursts the blood vessels in your eyes and stained them indigo. Until you bled from every part of your head as your brain melted down.
> 
> Your burnouts couldn’t be cured with a few painkillers.
> 
> “Well I am sure that all of that will fade with more rest. And food, if you have not eaten here.” They’re fidgeting again, but you knew that they didn’t like the medbay. Too many uncomfortable memories- you could admit it wasn’t your favorite place either.
> 
> “Of course,” You say, turning to head for the entrance. “No training for tonight. You need to finish recovering your strength.”

You can’t get out of here fast enough. You have to hop to, to match Vadaya’s stride, but you skip past him to make it out the door and hold it open for him.

“No training is probably for the best, yeah,” you say, somewhat discouraged. You’d like to be finally useful at some point, and if you kept having delays, it would just take longer. “I ate a bunch in the medbay, but I’m kinda hungry? But also I think I might want to take a nap first. Again.”

You glance up at him, already more questions on your tongue.

“What’s it like for you when you burnout?” You ask. “Does it hurt with you?”

All you did was fall asleep, and you’re getting the feeling you’ve gotten lucky. Though, it really wasn’t like getting sleepy on your own accord. It was like sleepy to the point of severe sleep deprivation. Vadaya probably had to carry you through the halls, damn, you hope no one saw that.

Dealing with the rumors that you were having an affair, again, would be a pain and a half, but at least you didn’t really need to worry about getting assaulted anymore. In the end, talk was talk.

> As eager as they are to get out of here it’s almost a wonder that they restrain themselves enough not to run for the door. At least they opened the door for you and stuck close once you were free of the medbay.
> 
> “Your body is burning through its reserves to try and restore your psionics,” You explain, the knowledge rising easily. “I would recommend that you at least try to eat a protein bar before you sleep. The hunger is probably also contributing to your headache and will only be worse if you rest.”
> 
> You were mostly expecting the question they asked, aware that they might be curious. “Yes,” you say mildly. “My burnouts are much more violent. I am producing all of my psionics with my brain- I am not manipulating things that already exist like you do. That may be part of the difference.”
> 
> You’re glad the halls are mostly empty as you walk, but you still keep your voice lower, meant for Daginy to hear alone. “If I put too much of a strain on myself, things… Ah. Burst. Blood vessels. In my nose, my eyes. The ears and mouth as the damage becomes more severe. But such cases are very rare now. They mostly happened when I was younger, before I was more aware of my limits.”

You can’t help the look of abject horror that crosses your face as he lowers his voice and explains what exactly happens to him when he burns out.

You glance around the hall, seeing if there’s anyone to overhear something that’s really quite alarming. A weakness.

“That’s…” You still can’t find the words. “Wow. I, uh, I get off really easy.” 

It makes your worries about rumors seem small and petty.  The thought is honestly alarming, of Vadaya pushing himself until indigo blood pours from his face, collapsing. You never really thought about what would happen if Vadaya  _died_. 

He was always a solid rock, a steady presence, seemingly infallible, though, logically you knew, everyone made mistakes. You’ve always assumed you’d die before he did, lasting longer in both lifespan and general sturdiness, but him dying was still a possibility you hadn’t considered. 

You raise a hand and tentatively rest it on his arm. 

“I’m, ah,” you say, looking up at him. “I’m glad it doesn’t really happen anymore.” 

> You didn’t mean to scare them, but it’s obvious you do. You assurances that it doesn’t happen anymore can only do so much for them though, they’re glancing around the halls like someone could be coming for you for daring to say it out loud.
> 
> “It is different for different psionics,” you explain with a light shrug of a shoulder. “It may also just be a particular flaw in my unusual brain.” Indigos weren’t psionics. It seemed like you should have some flaw for daring to come out the way you had.
> 
> You almost pause when they touch your arm, hand featherlight on you like they were afraid you’d pull away. But their words and face were earnest, and you felt yourself relaxing.
> 
> It was… Nice. Having trolls  _care_ about you.
> 
> “So am I,” You tell them with a hint of a smile. “And I am glad you do not have to worry about such things. But thank you. You certainly do not have to worry about such things happening. The worst I usually strain myself to these nights is a nosebleed. My augments helped out with that as well.”

You smile back, relieved. Your fingers curl lightly into his sleeve before you take your hand back.

“Well falling asleep in the middle of combat seems like it might be pretty fatal too,” you say.

It’d be easy for someone to stab, grab, whatever if you passed out for hours on the battlefield.

“Definitely going to avoid that,” you say. Then you hesitate a moment, then ask, fiddling with the edge of your jacket. “You carried me to the medbay, didn’t you? Um, no one happened to see that, did they?”

You’re drawing closer to the recruit wing, and you kind of want to know what you’re going to be dealing with. You’re sure whatever it is would be worse than, say, if he had brought you back to your dorm.

You’re glad you dealt with the medbay instead.

There was less of a chance your fellow recruits had seen that particular interaction, and if it was someone you blackmailed, you wouldn’t actually have a problem.

> “You will not have to worry about that,” You assure them with a shake of your head. You couldn’t imagine any scenario where they would have to push themselves that hard that wouldn’t end in a disaster. They’d held up the cloak for quite a while, longer than you hoped you’d ever need in a battle.
> 
> And more practice would teach them to streamline their psionics, to use less to do more. You’d strengthen them up like you had the rest of their body and you had the feeling it would do more for their confidence. They seemed to have some pride in what they could do.
> 
> When they weren’t passing out because of them, that is.
> 
> “That is correct,” you agree, watching them as they nervously fidget. “It was a quick trip. Four trolls saw me before I entered the medbay, none of them recruits.” Because of course you knew what they were worried about. You’d brought them to the medbay because of those concerns.
> 
> “I am sure the others will be curious as to why you were out all day however,” you add, frowning at the thought. “And may have learned you were admitted to the medbay.” They were dealing with their bullies well enough on their own. If anyone bothered them? Well. You were sure you’d be adding another envelope to your collection.

You hesitate a moment when Vadaya reassures you about your burnout. Things go wrong, you know. There was always a chance. But if you ever did get to the point where that was a real problem- your battery must have been destroyed. And the chances of that would be low. You hope.

You run a hand through your hair as you nod. You’re mainly worried about the recruits– you hope Vadaya’s peers don’t have rumors of their own– but they probably know that you’re a former rebel.

You’d worry about that if- when you joined their ranks. You’re sure Vadaya can take care of himself. Or at least that full fledged soldiers gossiped less than recruits.

“I can work with that,” you say. As long as none of them saw you, the truth should be fine. You’re pretty sure Vadaya didn’t sling you over his shoulder or tuck you under his arm– any kind of consideration he showed you fueled rumors. All you had to do was avoid the subject of how you got to the medbay. You doubt anyone would ask.

> Daginy doesn’t completely believe you, but they’re too smart for such things. You were no clairvoyent, you couldn’t tell how every battle would end. But you knew you would do your best to always keep your battery safe.
> 
> You just also knew that sometimes, your best wasn’t good enough. Sometimes even your best lost you your allies.
> 
> “I am sure you can,” you agree with a nod. You were getting closer to the recruit wing now and you let yourself slow, expecting them to match your pace so you could speak a little longer. “I will continue to hold on to your envelopes for you. If you have the need to collect more of them that is.”
> 
> You look them over, dressed in last night’s uniform and still looking a bit ragged. Quite the sight for curious young eyes you were sure. “Hopefully most recruits will be busy in training at the moment. You should be able to make it to your room without drawing too much attention. Take it easy tonight, eat as much as your body demands of you, and we will meet tomorrow for more training. Understood?”

You slow when he does, smiling sheepishly as he mentions your envelops, glancing around to make sure no one could overhear where your hiding spot was.

“Yes sir,” you say, standing up straight and giving him a proper salute.

You have a stock of snacks in your room- food hoarding habits died hard– but at least you were eating it and not just hanging onto them (which feels like a familiar problem). You’d take his advice and eat something before you fell asleep again. You still feel like you could use a little sopor.

When he dismisses you, you relax from attention, and give him a little wave before you head back into the recruit wing.


	10. Memory

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. Would you go as far as terrified? No, no, you don’t think so. You’re a bit relieved too, though, that Vadaya had asked after it. It’s like he really does care. Sometimes you think you’re making too much of it- it’s just a blurry snatch of a past you have no context for- but he wants to hear it. You’d been carrying around this memory for what seems like ages. It terrifies you, but some times you can’t stop thinking about it. 

How had someone been able to do that to you? However hard you trained- would you be able to stop someone from making you so helpless again? Maybe- maybe if Vadaya understood, he’d understand you better. Maybe you’d feel less alone. 

That doesn’t stop you from being scared though. After all, if Vadaya had decided that this was a major breech in rehabilitation, that was it for you. Would he do that to you? 

You don’t want to find out. 

Still, you follow him to the empty practice room. It’s not- not really practice, but it’ll be private. You wouldn’t want any of your cohort walking in on your explanation of your memories. And if this is the last thing you ever do- well. You guess you’d want your execution to be private too. 

You keep yourself from reaching out for Vadaya’s hand, keeping your hands clenched on the hem of your jacket. At least he can’t tell how hard you’re clutching- the gloves he’d given you would hide any paling of your knuckles. 

“So uh,” you say, taking a deep breath as you step in and lock the door behind you. “I- I’m- uh where should I start?” 

> You’ve been trying to take it… Easy on Daginy, after they were released from medical. After the ups and downs of their recovery part of you had been concerned that if you pushed them too hard too soon, they would shatter in a way that you just couldn’t repair.
> 
> So you gave them easy drills, let them adjust to the augments and re-learn their hands. It hadn’t taken you too long to find them a few sets of durable gloves and now you never saw them without. You suspect that they only take them off to shower and to coon and while there were some concern about the idea that they could be damaging themself and hiding it… So far there was no signs of it, their fingers seemed to work without any issue.
> 
> Their memory, their offer to show you, weighed heavily on your mind the whole time. You had wanted to wait and see if they would reoffer after a few nights, but Daginy could be a hesitant troll. It hadn’t taken you long to decide against waiting and to simply request that they share their memory with you. They hadn’t argued, but then they wanted your approval.
> 
> You’re both quiet as you travel, but you have to wonder what’s going on in their head. If they’re worried about sharing this memory. Daginy was a lot of things, but they weren’t dumb- they knew quite a bit about their situation, how precarious things were for them. The sword was a constant hovering threat over their head- a sword you would have to brandish, if they became… A threat.
> 
> It could be hard to think of them as a threat, looking at them. So small, so nervous. But you reminded yourself that appearances could be decieving, reminded yourself of what had happened to Zavare. You took a breath as you guided them in to the practice room, turning to watch them lock the door and question you. They can’t even get it out without stuttering.
> 
> “Start where you think would be best,” you reply simply, taking a step back. “But share it all by the end, Daginy.” You were both standing at the edge of a cliff right now, and you realized it. And possibly, you’d have to give them a push  _off_ of it.

He gives you the reigns but tells you to share everything. Is he going to be disappointed with how little you actually remember?

You clench your fists and force them to relax- the augments are like a void, pulling at your focus if you let them, but they were good for one thing.

You step quickly away from the door and let psi wash over the room. It’s not an exact replica- you can’t remember the specific details and everything is blurry, but your breath hitches as the dark room forms around you. Dark grey and blurry and nondescript in just about every way. You don’t catch much of the setting in your flash of a memory- you just know the grey from behind the face of your torturer.

“I d-don’t have a lot of detail,” you say. “A lot of it is b-blurry and they- I don’t think they would have let me have my psi so-“ the creeping dread starts pulling you apart, and you drop the illusion as your voice catches and fails. You can’t start panicking now- this wasn’t even the worst part. It’s just the practice room with Vadaya. You’ve been here before. You’ve been safe here before. It’s just you and Vadaya again. And if you couldn’t show Vadaya this, then who could you?

You clutch your elbows to you as you try to keep yourself together.

“S-sorry,” you manage, staring at the ground as the practice room returns. “It’s hard.” It comes out as a whisper. You’ve never made excuses to Vadaya before. But this wasn’t just a training exercise. This was probably one of the worst moments of your life- maybe he’d forgive this little bit of hesitation.

“A lot of it is blurry,” you manage to say again, when you’ve calmed down some, not quite clutching yourself as hard, but you don’t let go either. “I don’t think I h-had glasses or contacts or- for you know. My vision.”

> You hold yourself still when Daginy moves and casts the room in to shadows. It’s not an attack you have to remind yourself, but you can’t help but be aware of everything- the form of them in the darkness. The quiet jerk of their breath in the momentary silence, another sign of their hesitance before they can speak.
> 
> Not that they can say much before their voice gives out, the light coming back to the room as they start to lose control over themself. But whatever this memory is of their’s they keep insisting that it’s blurry. You’re familiar enough with the fog of memories that it doesn’t seem that hard to imagine, though you wonder why it is that they can recall it at all. You knew rehabilitation was a fickle thing, that this was a memory embedded so deeply that it wriggled its way to the surface again, like a splinter. You just wished it had stayed buried, and part of you isn’t sure what to make of your frustration.
> 
> Not that you let any of it show. No, you had to remain composed as always, allow no hint of weakness even as Daginy stammers out their apology. If they knew you were feeling negatively about this it would just make them worse after all.
> 
> “It is alright Daginy,” you assure them instead. They aren’t looking at you, too busy holding themself like they might fracture apart if they let go. Who knows? There’s a possibility they might. “Take your time. We are in no rush tonight.” You would make yourself afford them patience. You had to, you were sure.
> 
> And they seemed to relax given a bit of time, enough that they were able to speak again. It helped explain some of the blurriness you had thought was the haze of barely-there memories, made it more complicated. “I understand,” you say because you’re not sure what else there is to tell them.
> 
> You wait a beat before you speak again. “Would you prefer not to use your psionics to speak about this?” You weren’t sure how much of a concession it was to make, but you didn’t think you would miss anything vital.

He tells you that you don’t have to rush and you nod, thankful. You don’t want him to think you’re leaving anything out or you’re purposefully hiding anything, but you don’t know if you could handle rattling it off like a report.

He asks you if you want to use your psi and you hesitate, mulling it over. Walking into it was hard, yes, but a picture is worth a thousand of them, right? You just won’t keep it up like you thought you could.

“Words are hard sometimes,” you murmur. “So maybe- maybe for some things, b-but I won’t- I don’t think I can- not for everything.”

Besides, there’s some things you can remember you can’t replicate with psi. The weight of someone heavy pinning you down, the cut of a wire around your wrist. You clutch yourself tighter.

You don’t think Vadaya would appreciate it if you sat on him or slapped a hand on his face, and you mull over how you want to continue. You take one breath, and then another expecting to speak on each one and delaying it until the next breath.

“C-can we sit down?” you manage a little weakly, instead. You feel so vulnerable standing up. You want to hide in a corner and hold your knees but you don’t want Vadaya to think you’re just shutting down or that you’re not going to talk.

> It makes sense that they’re so nervous- there’s a lot riding on this memory of theirs. Not even touching on the memory itself, which seemed… Well. You didn’t want to think of it as dangerous, did you? You wanted Daginy to succeed.
> 
> But why? So that Zavare’s loss wasn’t in vain? So your battery was complete again? Because you actually wanted to see Daginy become something more? You truly didn’t want to try and peel back the layers on your emotions. It was easier just to set them aside. After all, they had no real power here. It didn’t matter what you felt. All that mattered was the orders, obedience.
> 
> “Do what is most comfortable for you,” you tell them, barely deciphering the quiet mumbles of their words. You’re not good at being comforting like this even still. You wonder if Daginy would have been better off with another handler, but… Though you had volunteered, you had done it because of the expectations of your superiors. 
> 
> You had been chosen, they wished to see Daginy on your team. You just to continue to make due.
> 
> They ask to sit and you nod, looking around the room. It’s meant for practice, for movement- there’s no chairs but that has never stopped you, has it? You just take your psi in to hand and form two simple chairs, sitting in yours to watch them. You’d prefer to be standing for this you realize, at the same time you admit that having Daginy sitting while you stood would probably unnerve them further. You didn’t want this to feel like some interrogation.

You kind of just wanted to sit on the floor- but of course Vadaya would make chairs. It had slipped your mind, that he probably would. But he sits in his chair and you climb into yours, tucking your feet underneath you and wrapping your arms around your knees. 

What was the next thing you had to say? You can feel your shoulders shake and your breath hitch with a quiet sort of terror. You thought you’d be okay- it’s- it’s just Vadaya, and you wanted to talk to someone about this, but actual trying to do it- it’s bringing all those feelings of helplessness and fear way too close to the surface. 

You wish this was over already. You don’t want to do this anymore, but you  _promised._ You promised you’d be more open, and you promised you’d tell Vadaya. Besides, you  _wanted_ him to know more of what was going on with you right? 

You bury the bottom half of your face in your knees and think about how to continue.

“It hurt,” you murmur. “I remember everything hurting. I- I couldn’t move because-”

The words get caught in your throat, again, and when you try to keep talking you, a little sob comes out instead of words. You pull your psi up again, and make an illusion of yourself on the floor. It looks like you now- you have no idea what you looked like before, but from your scars, you can’t imagine your torturer allowing you long sleeves or maybe even  _having_  clothes, but also you don’t want to strip your illusion in front of Vadaya. It’s weird. 

You pull your illusion self’s arms up above their head, illusory wires twirling around their wrists and heading off into nothingness. You grab your own wrist, aware of the thin scar that circles your arm.

Illusion you’s expression is as blank as you can make it. It helps, a little, that there’s one version of you who doesn’t feel this- this awful about it. You can pretend for at least a while that it’s this alternate version of you who went through this and never felt anything. 

A length of tape appears over your illusion’s mouth. You can feel the sticky pressure on your own and you wipe your face, as tears leak out of the corner of your eyes. Cold fingers touch your face and you sculpt a hand gripping your chin. 

There’s was heavy weight on your stomach- someone hovering above you- you make legs, settling next to your middle- how big should they be? What are the proportions? You don’t remember what they were wearing, or how tall they were, or anything. You build a vaguely troll shaped amorphous figure from the parts that were touching you, sections of elbow and knees glitching in and out as you try and get it to look okay. It’s the most tolerable part of the whole thing, focusing only on the anatomy of the figure, an intellectual exercise instead of an emotional one, even if it’s a little disturbing to watch the figure shift like that. 

But their face- the torturer figure, the only part you can remember in any sort of clarity, it’s facing away from you, the real you from where you’re sitting now. You remember a vague curve of horns that you add from behind. Hair, also- you add curls that cascade down over their shoulders. And the scissors. In their free hand you add a blurry set of silver scissors, that get lowered towards illusory you’s face, and you clutch your right eye and freeze the scene. 

You can’t speak. You can’t move. You hold your knees even tighter, barely breathing as you fix your gaze on the back of this amorphous not-person and tears run from your face. 

It’s like you’re stuck. Every part of you is latched onto this memory that you’re constructing in front of you, and as terrified as you are, you know you still have one more part to show.

The figure of the torturer shifts- you don’t bother with realistic movement, their head turning towards Vadaya like the slide of a owl’s neck. Their features are blurry, shifting somewhat as you try to put exactly what you saw to the light. 

The paint is what comes through the clearest. White clown paint with smears of black on their cheeks, dots around piercing indigo eyes. You can’t bear to make them look at you, but you stare at the illusion, breathless and wordless, every ounce of laser focus on this one image and you don’t know how to break free. 

> You keep yourself quiet as they settle themselves as defensively as possible. They look like they hope that if they curl themselves tight enough, they’ll be safe from… What? Their memory? You? Perhaps both.
> 
> You keep yourself patient, biding your time as they bury their face in their knees. Pushing just wouldn’t help, not like this. Not when they’re already shaking at just the thought of sharing this memory. And when they spoke, it was fleeting and focused on their pain. Could you imagine that sort of hurt? 
> 
> You’d been no stranger to being injured. You bore your share of scars, a road map of jagged lines, craters across your skin. You’d been stabbed, shot, burned, hit with the best your enemies had to offer. It was just another aspect of your life, a constantly hovering shadow waiting for the next opportunity to strike.
> 
> But you had been raised on it. Taught to endure, always endure. ‘Pain was the body’s way of telling you that you’d pushed yourself to your limits - which was exactly where you were supposed to be.’ How many times had your heard that on the training fields? Told that if it didn’t hurt, if it wasn’t difficult, you weren’t working hard enough.
> 
> But you’d never gone through the scene that Daginy formed in front of both of you- torture at its basest form. Not truly, and nothing that would paralyze you like Daginy seemed to be, sobbing even as they forced the image out. Completely helpless to this figure who was methodically inflicting pain upon them- for what? Answers, no doubt. Information. How many rebels ended up in a scenario like this? Too many to count, you were sure.
> 
> The slide of the shadowy figure’s neck would be gruesome on a real troll, enough to cause a slight tingle of unease before you snuffed it out to instead focus on what features there were. You had thought, vaguely, that the horns and hair looked somewhat familiar, but you had brushed it aside. After all, plenty of trolls had the same sort of look.
> 
> But the paint? You’d always been told that the design a troll put on their face was personal. Some little voice you’d never been able to smother completely told you it was  _divine,_ an image given to a troll from the Messiahs themselves in their dreams. Some things were different than the woman you had been forced to interact with in the past, but the eyes, the paint. It was too similar to just be coincidence, wasn’t it?
> 
> Especially with her interest in the Magpies. They were why you had been around her, after all. Perhaps it wasn’t just professional duty.
> 
> “I think that’s enough Daginy,” you say, but a glance at them shows that they seem rooted where they are. Unblinking, unmoving- just focused on  _her._ So you reach forward with the AREMA, sliding your hand through the shape of her head and waving it through the image.
> 
> “It is an illusion,” you try to soothe, but you find yourself unable to figure out what to  _do_ other than try to disrupt the illusion. “You have control of it Daginy. Now let it go.”

Vadaya moves, shifts off his chair towards the image and you’re caught between too many urges- to tell him to get away, stay safe, to hide, stay still, hope they never find you, run, because he’s coming for you and it’s over, he’s going to-

Wave his hand through the illusion’s face and tell you to let go.

It’s not real. You know it’s not. You feel the pull of your psi keeping the image there. You brought it back to life and you could take it away.

You don’t just let it go. You rip it to pieces. You tear the torturer into chunks of light that disappear one by one. You pull apart your unfeeling illusion as its body disassembles itself and it’s gone. It’s even a little bit cathartic to watch it tear itself apart.

You wish you could do the same for this- this memory- no. Not the memory. The event itself. If you forgot again it wouldn’t change the fact it had happened to you. You’d tear it out of your timeline if you could but in the end, you’re still helpless.

Even now.

You clutch your knees closer. You can breathe a little easier now that you’re not trapped in that memory but- there’s still that terror in your chest. There’s still that helplessness, and you remember why you’re not supposed to remember anything.

Your voice catches as you wet your lips, still shivering as you try to speak. There’s a tremulous spark of hope you have to squash because if you hope too hard and you’re disappointed, it’ll kill you as surely as any blade.

“I-is this the part where- is this where-“ you take another breath and force yourself to say the rest of the words you have to say. “-where you have to cull me?”

You can’t keep the fear off your face as you glance up at him, searching for any hint of. You don’t know. Mercy? Sadness? Something that shows you he cares?

You hold your shaking hands out to him, baring your wrists- you can’t fight him you know and so if you don’t, hopefully he’ll make it quick and you’ll go fast.

It would be too easy for him to put you down like that figure haunting your past- carve out both your eyes, take the rest of your fingers, your hands, your limbs- would anyone else say anything? Would anyone care?

Vadaya wouldn’t do that to you right?

Right?

> You weren’t used to seeing violence out of Daginy. They trained, as you taught them to, but there was never any true brutality in their actions. The closest you had seen from them in terms of aggression was their outburst after the the surgery, when they had reached their limits and had just gone to anger.
> 
> But that was different than watching them tear their illusionary assailant to pieces, bit by bit disappearing. They rip the figure apart even though they don’t really raise a finger to do it, a silent moment of emotion until it was gone completely.
> 
> It was back to just you and them, and they’re still looking terrified. But they aren’t frozen, they’re breathing even if it’s unsteady. The shaking hasn’t stopped, but could you really expect it to? No, of course not.
> 
> You weren’t expecting them to compose themself enough to speak at all, but they surprise you. But with their question you can understand why they force out the words, rather than spend the moments left sitting there wondering if this was the end of them. Culled for a memory they didn’t ask to have kept intact.
> 
> But was it really intact? They knew they had their eye taken out, horribly. By a troll they could only vaguely recall- they didn’t seem to know the circumstances, simply that it happened. Perhaps some handlers would consider it enough, strike them down now. Perhaps you  _should._ It could be a crack that only grew, after all. What if more memories came from it?
> 
> Why would Daginy want to dwell on the memory however? This could bite you, you realize. They could remember more, strike against you and those you held close. But looking at them now, holding their wrists out to you- it was like some moment out of history, the low seeking repentance from the high.
> 
> You didn’t want to cull them. The idea worries you, but it was true.
> 
> You took a slow breath, allowed the worry to smooth down. You didn’t want to fail, that was all. And you would not. “No,” you tell them, reaching slowly for their hand, allowing them the time to react before you tried to push their wrist down. “I do not have to cull you.” You didn’t mean to, but you hesitate, watching them.
> 
> “But do not speak of your memory. Not anywhere where you might be heard. Understand me?”

You tremble as you watch Vadaya breathe, in and out, slowly, impassive as tears spill from your eyes. 

It’s your life in his hands and it’s practically torture, watching him decide. It’s not death that scares you half as much as the fact that it would prove how little Vadaya cares about you. That you, in the end, was worthless to him. Your memory- as horrible as it was- you don’t think it’s very relevant to being a- what you were. Just another example of the punishment doled out to traitors. 

He couldn’t answer, after all, when you asked if he cared about you, even if you were high off your ass. And he ignored that embarrassing moment where you told him you loved him. 

You don’t actually- you can’t actually say if Vadaya gives a shit about you, or if the nice things he’s done for you was just him doing his duty. You don’t- you’re not sure, but if Vadaya doesn’t want you, this was how he could get rid of you.

But he tells you no, he won’t kill you, and you can’t help the white hot surge of relief that tears you straight open to the hope you felt like you couldn’t have and you’re sobbing before he finishes speaking, great heaving, throat tearing sobs as he reaches out for you. 

You grab onto his hand, clinging to it as you curl up, trying to press out that awful awful desperation, that hope that in some way he might love you too. You almost miss his last statement, and suddenly you understand a few things, even as you manage a strangled agreement.

Vadaya does not want you dead. However, other people, if they knew about your memories, would, and he’s willing to go far enough to cover this up to protect you. He believes this can work, and you’ll be a proper soldier, despite your many, many doubts.  On some level, you think, he does care.

But not enough. 

It took him so long to answer, because if you remember anything more, something to prove that maybe your rehabilitation would fail, he would cull you then. 

He’s the only thing keeping you out of torturer’s cuffs and he could put you back there as easily as giving a word. All he’d have to do is change his mind.

It’s a realization that hurts and hurts and hurts- Vadaya will never want to get close to you, you should have realized it before. He has to hold an executioner’s blade above your neck and it’ll only hurt him if eventually, he has to let go. You’ve known this, but it’s never been so real to you before.

But he does care. At least a little. Does it really matter? Will he ever put anything over his duty?

If you remember anything else, you can’t tell Vadaya. The threat of your memories returning would always hang over your head, but you could  _make_  it be okay, if you just never acted on them, on anything that you remembered. You just wouldn’t turn traitor again, no matter what you knew. You wouldn’t hurt Vadaya, or his actual battery. 

You cry yourself out before you can let go. You’re trembling more from exhaustion than fear, even as you grapple with the pain, as you release his hand, and sit back up, still clutching your elbows to you, not quite looking Vadaya in the eye. 

“If you do have to, in the f-future,” you say, your voice cracking only a little. “You’d make it quick? If I remember a-anything else.” 

It doesn’t even have to be because of the memories. If you’re found incompetent that was a culling order right there, and you’re plenty incompetent. But if he has to kill you, he wouldn’t torture you right? You don’t think he would, but you don’t want him to push it off onto someone who  _would,_ either. 

> You didn’t like this feeling, this decision. You hoped that this would be the end of times when you would have to face this with Daginy, the last time you had to decide whether it was best to stay your hand or to put them down. You didn’t want to have to see their relief when you spoke, the way they cried.
> 
> The way they clung to you like some lifeline, when you knew that if you were asked, you would snap the thread and let them plummet. You would have to. Personal desires were nothing against the needs and safety of the Empire, you knew that. Had had it told to you, demonstrated in so many ways both big and small that there was no doubt in you of the lengths you would go. Because you were an instrument, one of the Empire’s finest- you would not falter, you would not fail. You were built to serve and you were built well.
> 
> You forced up the pride you needed to feel at that fact, let yourself retreat behind it as you listened to them sob and hold on to you.
> 
> At least they agree with you, they understand that their memories could be dangerous to them. Of course they did. Perhaps you should have tried to get them to stop their crying but you don’t think there’s a way to, not this time. So you let them cry and cry, make a mess of themself, and wonder what sort of release they get out of it.
> 
> You’re pulling your arm away when they speak up, and you take your time settling it in your lap so you can think. But it’s not much to think about, is it? “Of course,” you say, voice quiet- somber, you realize. “I will make it as painless as possible. You will not… Suffer.” Of course not. You did not enjoy killing- you did not enjoy inflicting pain the way you knew some did, drawing out the process. You had no desire for screams, for agony. It was your job to kill, so you did it. That was all there was to it.
> 
> “If I have to,” you say, and you can feel your shoulders drop before you can help it. You killed, yes. And before… You would have killed them, without hesitation. If it had been your orders. But things were different now. Enough that you would hesitate? No. Never, you couldn’t. But that didn’t change the fact that Daginy was a troll to you, someone you knew. More than just a target.
> 
> You needed to focus on them as a mission. Make sure they kept improving so this wouldn’t be an issue.

You wipe your soggy face with your sleeves, sniffling softly when he answers, and you hear something- hesitation? Sorrow? He won’t make you suffer if it comes to it in the end and it’s a relief. Just seconds ago, that was all you could bring yourself to want.

You can’t help but seize on it, more evidence that he doesn’t want you hurt or dead. If he was ordered to cull you, it’d hurt him. Vadaya is nothing if not a good soldier and good soldiers followed orders.

You  _want_  it to hurt. If he culls you, you want it to rip him open so wide he’ll never ever forget you. If he was going to do this to you- if he was going to be your most important person, your only person, you better be important to him too. Somehow.

It’s a vicious thought, and a selfish one. If you were a good person you wouldn’t want him to worry. You  _were_  a traitor and a rebel, isn’t this what you get for it? Part of you rails against the verdict. It’s not fair, it wasn’t like you could even remember what you even did, but maybe that feeling was part of the punishment too. Maybe it was the empire’s will that you died forgotten, unloved and alone. That didn’t make sense, though to put you through all this training and heart ache for just that. Even for a rebel, that seemed cruel.

The empire had its reasons. A good soldier doesn’t question the empire, you know. Maybe it makes you a bad soldier, but you don’t care about your orders, only that Vadaya does.

All you want is to be by his side for as long as you can. It’s the only thing you know for certain.

It feels vulnerable to extend your arms again, but you do it anyway.

“Hug?” You ask, and it comes out a little more desperately than you’d like it to.

> You have no idea what’s going on in their mind right now, except that there’s worry there. You’ve never had the desire to be able to read another’s mind even if such an ability might be considered more in line for your caste, but right now… Perhaps a peek would be tempting.
> 
> You’re almost expecting what comes next, or some form of it- them seeking comfort of some sort from you. Of course it would be a hug, it was their physical go-to for reasons that continued to elude you. What was it about being held that brought comfort? You’d ask someone if you weren’t afraid of how they might look at you for it. You didn’t want pity, you wanted to understand.
> 
> Was it nice to hug? You suppose it could be. After a mission someone might hug you, when the adrenaline was still running high. It was nice to feel that they were still there, still alive. You didn’t know how well it crossed over to a situation like this.
> 
> You wish so much about Daginy didn’t cause you to have these questions. They were full of enough curiosity for both of you after all, why did you have to wonder as well?
> 
> Maybe eventually they would grow out of this need for comfort. The goal was to have them able to stand on their own, to gain confidence in themself and their capabilities. Sometimes you had to worry that you were coddling them like this- the mediculler’s words still taunted you, that you were /soft/ on them.
> 
> But they sound like if you don’t give in to their request they might break apart like their illusion, so you slide forward out of your chair to hold them, arms around them as you looked over their head. Maybe this wouldn’t feel so weird some night either, so stiff.
> 
> You won’t hold your breath on it though.

Vadaya slides out of his chair and wraps his arms around you as you tuck your head into his shoulder and close your eyes.

For a minute, you let yourself just… pretend. You pretend that Vadaya would keep you safe and protected. For a minute you pretend you’ve already earned his trust and you can come and go unquestioned as a part of his battery. For a minute you just pretend the only person who cares about you wouldn’t cull you the second the order came down. For a minute, you pretend you’re safe.

It’s a nice dream, and you stifle more sobs, clutching onto his coat, because you know it’s not true and it’s probably not going to be true, not all the way. You can’t fool yourself on this if you’re going to survive. You’re not even sure you want to- survive, that is. You’ve had enough moments where the sudden urge to jump off something tall is nearly overwhelming or sometimes you wake up and you wish you were dead.

But dying means failing and it means disappointing Vadaya and you don’t want to do that either. Dying means you don’t get any more chances to actually be happy- and maybe that would still happen some day. That hope’s not dead yet. You still have to  _try_.

You could still earn your place. You’ll never be free of suspicion but- maybe you’ll be less alone. Some day.

At some point you feel stable enough to let go, pull back, searching Vadaya’s face for some of his thoughts. Anything, really, before dropping it back down. You wipe your face again and suddenly you’re aware you’ve probably made a scene and you’re glad you’ve locked the door.

“Sorry,” you whisper. Your throat is sore from all of the crying you’ve done. You wonder what Vadaya’s gotten from all of this. Does he get it a little more? Does he understand you? How afraid you can be?

“Any ah- questions?” you ask hesitantly. “I’ve asked so many of them- I- well, you can have some too.”

Has Vadaya ever asked after anything about you? Not until you had gotten high off morphine, which you’re surprised to find you’re still a little bitter about. But maybe asking for questions- you’ve broken your agreement to be open about things many times already, but Vadaya doesn’t know that.

Asking for questions though- you still want Vadaya to understand you. You’ll try not to lie for anything he asks you. And besides, asking for this just shows you trying to be open and not hiding things and maybe then Vadaya won’t suspect what you really have to hide.

****

> You wish you knew what to do in situations like this, where Daginy just keeps sobbing and sobbing. They always stop, eventually, but you’re sure there’s something missing here. Perhaps there’s some words you could say to help dry their tears, some gesture that would help them piece themself together. But if there are, they’re beyond you.
> 
> So instead you keep quiet as they cry and do what you always do- you wait for them to exhaust themselves, and you think.
> 
> You don’t hide things, not on average. There were things you chose not to talk about, with anyone- your past before you came to the bureau, your training. But they were ommissions based off of your desire to not ostracize yourself from your battery, from your companions. Hiding that Daginy remembered something wasn’t like that, it was a whole other level. It was something that could easily get you in trouble, be seen as disobedience.
> 
> You couldn’t think about it too hard, or you could feel your chest tightening, your brain trying to tell you that this wasn’t what you were trained to do. A good soldier wouldn’t be holding this possible threat, they would be reporting it immediately. It wasn’t your place to make decisions like this, to ignore the chain of command. You could feel the echo of every lesson you had learned as a recruit screaming at you, and all you could do was force it all down.
> 
> If Daginy remembered nothing else, there would be no issue. They knew what they had to do, and you would be there to make sure that they kept on the right path.
> 
> They pull away, actually look at you, and you hope you don’t look as lost as you feel. You compose yourself but it’s too late- they’re already looking down and away from you. Apologizing, again. “It is alright,” you soothe, pulling yourself back away from them again and settle back in to your seat. “It is upsetting. Of course you are upset.”
> 
> You smooth the arm of your coat out as they speak up, ask you if you want to switch roles. Did you have questions? Prying at others wasn’t something you did often. But they were reaching out to you, weren’t they. You were already out of your comfort zone, Daginy was good at pushing you out of it. Why not continue forward?
> 
> “How are things in the barracks? With the other recruits and the environment…” You trail off, considering your words. Where to go from here. “You are not. Uncomfortable there, are you?” You didn’t know what you would do if they were. It was something you would have to look in to, what would happen with them if- when- they graduated. They certainly couldn’t stay in the recruit barracks forever.

It’s not the question you expected him to ask. You thought he might ask you something more about things you remembered, maybe about what you thought of the rehabilitation and how it was going, or what you would do if you remembered anything else. 

But about how things are in the barracks? If you’re  _comfortable_ there? It’s not like you’re lacking physical things- but he’s asking about how the environment there is treating you. You don’t know how to answer that. You don’t want to tell him how miserable it can be. You don’t want him to step in and make things  _worse_ , even if your pumper pulls at the thought that he cares enough to ask after how you’re doing. 

Do you lie? What kind of lie do you want to tell? How do you want to tell it? If you lie here, broadcast the general signs of a liar- make it obvious enough that Vadaya can pick up on it easy- then he’ll look for the wrong signs when you  _do_ have something more important to lie about. 

But you promised to be open- but you’ve paused so long now, it’s obvious that you don’t want to talk about it. You duck your head a moment, grabbing some more time to think, because if you lie outright, it’s going to be so obvious to him you’re lying rather than avoiding things you don’t want to talk about that it might break whatever kind of trust he does have for you being open. 

“I- I’m-” you manage to say, so he doesn’t think you’re not going to answer, but you need a minute to make this sound less miserable. If he knows you’re not giving everything up, would he pursue it? You might as well broadcast your hesitance even more, so that any actual hesitation for a bigger lie might not register. 

“I- It’s um, it’s okay I guess?” you say, still looking to the floor. “I have my privacy.” 

You’re not ungrateful- you like your respiteblock well enough. It was the one space that was unquestionably yours.

But normal respite blocks had  _stuff_  in them, pictures of quads and lusus, posters of things the inhabitants like, mementos of their favorite memories, civilian clothing in the styles they liked- things you don’t have.  You have a small pile of books that Vadaya’s given you, but not much else. Your closet is nothing but uniform pieces. You barely have time to get to know yourself again, in between all the training. Sometimes in those quiet moments, when you wonder what you lost, the emptiness of your respiteblock hurts like a physical pain. 

And the other recruits? 

“But I uh-” your voice gets stuck in your throat again. “The other recruits- I um, well. I- I don’t exactly have a lot of- of friends.” 

None of them like you much, basically. You have a pretty decent understanding of who everyone is, what they like and don’t like, what they want and what they hate- but you don’t know how to make them  _like_  you. Or, preferably, sometimes, to leave you alone. You don’t know any of the things they talk about except when they’re talking about training- and when you try to add to anything, your voice wavers and catches. You’re quiet and easily overlooked. 

When someone makes an effort to talk to  _you_ , you can’t tell them where you’re from, what your lusus was, if you’ve left anyone behind when you entered training. You can’t say you’ve been flarping, or what your thoughts are on season three of The Flush Crush. Worse still, everyone knows that Vadaya serves as your personal mentor, and you can’t explain why. It’s so obvious to everyone you don’t- that you’re not a very good soldier. You don’t have the fortitude.  

But Vadaya thinks you do, and that’s the only opinion you care about, but that makes people think you think you’re better than them, and generally, they don’t really like that. There’s been rumors you’d rather stick your foot in your mouth than repeat to Vadaya, and you’ve been getting bullied. At least most of your night isn’t spent with the other recruits. 

You’ve made your decision to tell Vadaya if he asks, but you can’t help but feel the burn of shame, clenching your fists and pressing them into your knees, that you can’t handle a couple of bullies on your own. 

> You’re sure you caught Daginy a bit flat-footed, switching tracks like you did. But you needed some time away from the what-ifs of their rehabilitation, the indecision on whether or not you were doing the right thing.
> 
> But the time passes, long enough to go from shocked silence to something else. You might have made them uncomfortable you realize rather quickly, asking about such things. You weren’t their lusus after all, you weren’t there to try and mother them. You were there to turn them in to a proper soldier and a productive member of the Empire.
> 
> They won’t look at you as they stumble through their words. You weren’t expecting for them to say they loved the barracks or anything- ‘okay’ was fine enough. It was a living space, you don’t think it was supposed to be much more than that.
> 
> But then they speak of the other recruits, and that isn’t much of a surprise to you either. You’d been checking in after all, here and there- just brief reports on how Daginy had settled in. The lack of companions had been noted more than once, how often they were alone. They were different in a group that had been drilled in cohesion- it had been a bit unfair to toss them in, but there weren’t any other options for them.
> 
> Not unless they wanted to stay in the medical wing, which you doubt. Especially after their time spent dealing with the mediculler who obviously had low opinions on Daginy’s success rate.
> 
> “Do you wish for friends, then?” The words come out a bit awkwardly, and you aren’t sure what you’d do about it if the answer was ‘yes’. You couldn’t very well order anyone to be Daginy’s friend, could you? But perhaps… There were options, outside of the recruits. Dhraji was near Daginy’s age you were rather sure, and seemed rather chipper. It was an idea, at least. And Dhraji could help encourage Empire loyalty in a more casual way than you ever could.
> 
> “Perhaps we could introduce you to new trolls. If that is something you might enjoy.” They’re so tense right now. You hadn’t meant for your questioning to make them feel worse, you realize. But here you were.

Vadaya keeps surprising you. You weren’t expecting him to ask if you wanted  _friends,_ you were expecting follow up to the bait you were laying, to see what kind of crumbs he would follow, not ask the question like he could  _give_  you friends.

It occurs to you that maybe- maybe he’s just an incurious person. It was obvious he was still looking after you- it might be that he wasn’t the sort of person to pry if you were hesitant with a subject and not that that he had friends who he would casually ask after but disregarded you.

(You wonder about your standards and where you got them from. It’s a strange comfort to know pain isn’t the only thing you brought from your past life, but it makes you wonder if there’s anything else.)

But he would ask if he thought it was important to rehabilitation. He did ask you those pointed questions while you were hopped up on painkillers and follow up with your memory.

But you think that does give you more room to maneuver. There’s a million uncomfortable topics you could hint at that he might avoid if there was something you really couldn’t tell him.

You don’t answer right away because yes- you’re lonely, but it’s kind of a scary prospect. If he introduced someone to you with the sole purpose of being your friend- would they decide you weren’t worth the trouble? Or maybe pretend to be friendly with you while Vadaya was around and bully you while he was out of sight. He wouldn’t  _order_  any of the recruits to be your friend, right?

That would be a disaster.

You look back up at him hesitantly.

“I mean, I-,” you manage. “Yes? But I-“ you look back down, unable to hold his gaze while you try to talk about your gaping insecurities. “I mean who are you thinking of? You’re- you’re the only person who likes me and you’re  _supposed to_. I- what if they don’t- would it be someone who- who can know about me?”

You’re not even sure Vadaya  _does_  like you.  You don’t know what you’ll do if you get attached to whoever it is and they decide they hate you or something.

> They keep looking down for a while after your question- thinking it over, you assume. You wonder if it was that awkward an offer you gave, to try and get them some social interactions outside of the recruits. You knew better than to try and get them any sort of companionship inside the barracks, but… They didn’t need to only be surrounded by soldiers, did they?
> 
> They just needed positive Imperial influences. And you’ve never heard anything about Dhraji that would lead you to believe he was anything but. He did his duty like any good troll, and he was never any sort of vicious personality. He was one of those odd trolls who just seemed to  _care_ a bit more than was probably healthy for him. But perhaps some of his affection might help Daginy.
> 
> They look up at you as you’re musing, but it’s a fleeting thing as they admit that they aren’t well-liked. “The troll I was considering is of another branch of our organization. He does not go out and fight- he is strictly a support role. A medic. He is around your age I believe, still somewhat new to the Bureau.” You’re not sure if you’re making him sound like anyone Daginy might be interested in- you’re not sure what sort of personality Daginy actually  _enjoys._ They like you, but what choice do they have?
> 
> “As for if he can know about you… Yes, he can. If you would prefer to have everything out in the open. At the very least he would know that you are training under me, of course. But he is not inexperienced with rehabilitated trolls- his supervisor and mentor was rehabilitated. I do not know him exceedingly well, I admit. But he has always seemed a rather friendly troll on the occasions that we have met.” They’re still not looking up, but you suppose you can’t expect them to. Not after what they’ve been through.
> 
> “I imagine he might like someone his own age to speak to as well. It is at least something for you to think about. We can always arrange a meeting and if you are not interested after that, it is alright.” They’d have to start making attachments to trolls other than you eventually. Dhraji was seeming like a better option with every moment- he hadn’t been affected by the destruction of the Magpies after all.

You turn the offer over in your head for a moment, keeping your eyes low as you think about it. Someone who wasn’t Scimitar? Who played a support role, like you should, only you had to be in Vadaya’s squad?

Someone who knew what rehabilitation was and looked up to someone who was rehabilitated and was friendly, and someone you could tell about your own rehabilitation without the risk of getting even more ostracized than you already were. 

“Okay,” you say with a little nod. “I think- I might like that? I- If he doesn’t know about the whole rehabilitation thing, I- there’s nothing really for me to say, you know? I can’t remember enough to- to hold conversation on anything but… chess. And training. And the books you gave me.” 

You don’t know if who ever he’s thinking of will like you- Vadaya doesn’t even know him all that well, you think. But… you think you might like to get to know him? He sounds.. nice? You hope.  And Vadaya’s for it. 

You don’t think he’s trying to to foist you off on anyone else or anything. What could it hurt?

“So you know. I think we might be able to get along?” 

If you stepped out of line with your memories or anything, this new person would probably kill you too. It’s a sobering thought, but some regular companionship might be nice. This new person wouldn’t be in charge of culling you at least. 

Would that realization hurt your relationship with Vadaya? You glance back up at him, calmer now, more hesitantly. He doesn’t look different at all, but you feel like something’s… changed now. You don’t know what, or if it’s good or bad, or whatever. 

You let your gaze drift away as you tuck some hair behind your ear, suddenly self conscious. You’re still afraid, you think, but you’re not sure of what it is anymore. 

> You let yourself stay quiet as they worked over the idea- you knew not to push. You could afford to be patient with them, let them come to their own decision. You had a feeling you knew the answer- if you had been offered a possible companion when you were a recruit, you know you probably would have reached out for it. With appropriate wariness of course, but you would have wanted to try.
> 
> And you’re right- they agree, even if they don’t seem too certain about how interesting they might be. “Well I am sure that Dhraji can keep up a conversation you can contribute to,” you offer, not quite sure how to be soothing about their lack of knowledge. You’d have to figure out somewhere to let the two interact- Dhraji worked in medical but you didn’t want to bring Daginy there. It’d be a poor first introduction if Daginy was too nervous about their surroundings to pay much attention to their company.
> 
> At least they’re willing to try. And they sound… Perhaps not hopeful about getting along, but accepting it was a possibility. Daginy was hardly an offensive personality you thought, and Dhraji seemed the type to like anyone. You would just have to have the hope here.
> 
> “I think you will both do just fine. I’ll contact him and see when he might be free to meet you. Perhaps you could meet for a meal.” You consider other possible options- there were training rooms, but that didn’t seem the best option when you were trying to have things come off as friendly.
> 
> “Or somewhere else. A study room perhaps, or the library.” You had meant to bring them to the library eventually after all- they had devoured the books you had given them, but you had realized that you had no idea if they read them because they enjoyed them or because they had no options. Giving them the freedom to choose their books instead seemed best. And perhaps the books as well as a hopefully friendly face would help them.
> 
> At least they don’t look panicked now. And they can pick up their head again, even if they still don’t let their eyes linger on you. It was alright. You’d just have to give them a bit more freedom, something to look forward to and someone to speak to and bond with that wasn’t just you. Things would work out.

You look up at the mention of the library, blinking, as you try to tamp down the excitement at the thought.   
  
“The library?” you say, “And I could pick my own books? I- um. I’d like to go there.”  
  
You’re always looking forward to Vadaya’s next book gift but the idea of picking your own is almost intoxicating. Now that you’ve told him about your memory, this might be a way of him indicating he’s trusting you more?   
  
“But um,” you say as you scratch your head, “maybe we should just get some food with- what’s his name, Dhraji? I might get distracted by the books.”  
  
If things went badly the end of a meal was an excellent excuse to leave. And eating with someone generally fostered goodwill and trust.   
  
Like a lot of your thoughts and ideas, you’re really not sure where that one comes from or why you know, but you’re getting used to it now. Your hunches usually seem to be accurate, even if you know they’re from another, darker life.   
  
You think you might have been some kind of an evil mastermind.

> Well you had been right about the library- you found yourself a bit relieved that they could seem excited about it, after the night they’d had. After the night you had put them through. But there was no room for guilt- you had done what you had needed to do, what they needed to do.
> 
> It was the past. Hopefully the only past they would ever remember. If you simply watched them, made sure they continued on their path… They could learn that the past was best left behind them, forgotten.
> 
> “Of course,” you tell them, unbothered at the idea. You knew the library wouldn’t have anything Daginy might get in trouble reading- it was for the recruits. How many hours had you spent in it in your youth after all? How many nights with nothing but the books for company?
> 
> “I will arrange for a lunch with him then. Perhaps later this week, if he is available. Does that sound alright?” You shuffled through your mental schedule for the week, seeing where you could nudge some things aside. Dhraji wasn’t usually that busy a troll- he stuck to the medical wing and didn’t leave it often.
> 
> It wouldn’t be hard to get him in with Daginy, you were sure. Even if it meant running the idea by Tomois. You were sure the man already knew plenty about Daginy, you just had to stomp out his curiosity for the time being. You aren’t sure if Daginy is ready to meet another ex-rebel.

You nod fervently as he lays out his plans like it was any other week. It’s normal, and now you have something to look forward too instead of having to chew on what just happened.

“That would be nice, I think,” you say. “And maybe- maybe the library after?”

You’d rather go to the library than meet Dhraji, really, but if it all goes well- well- you’re not really sure what friendship should look like, because Vadaya was your friend, you think, but he’s in charge of you. What to  _do_  with you.

You have to breathe deeper for a moment, clutching your chest as you refocus.

If Dhraji could be a friend then you think you’d like it. You just won’t get your hopes too high, just in case he wouldn’t.

This whole thing was exhausting though. You can feel it weighing heavily on your chest.

“C-can I go back to my room after this?” you murmur. You’re not asking too much of him, are you? Between the library and this.

It would be okay, right?

> Would the library be a reward for them then, for actually meeting up with Dhraji? You considered that for a moment, weighing it out. You don’t think Dhraji would do anything to make Daginy uncomfortable enough that they wouldn’t want to go to the library- Dhraji worked every night with trolls nervous about procedures and injuries. Surely he knew how to deal with a troll like Daginy.
> 
> “Of course. Lunch and then the library, then.” It wasn’t that hard a decision to make. You could allow them some books and perhaps use following visits as an incentive for their training. It seems odd to think that a troll would  _need_ incentive, but. You’re becoming used to having to think differently for them.
> 
> Even if it seemed like you still didn’t understand a lot about them. Like the way they clutch at their chest without any visible reason that you can imagine. You had thought they would be excited about the change in schedule. And maybe they were, maybe this night was just wearing on them.
> 
> That idea gathered more steam when they asked if they could go back to their room after this. You nod rather quickly for your answer, sure that trying to push them to do anything more would just cause them to shatter. You had to keep being careful, until they could toughen up enough for more.
> 
> “You may. Would you like to go back now?” Soft. Careful. You just wondered how much longer it would take them to begin to actually start to  _adjust._

 He pauses before he agrees, a pause that makes you hold your breath fora  fleeting moment before he agrees. He keeps his voice gentle and soft as he prompts you for an answer. 

You nod, casting your eyes back down. You haven’t even done all that much tonight, and already you feel exhausted. You hope you get stronger soon- you won’t be able to keep up with missions like this- but you guess it’s understandable with what just happened. You had been wound up so high for so long, you feel utterly drained. 

“Please,” you murmur, and stand, still with your head down. 

You hope Vadaya doesn’t hold it against you, taking the rest of the day to yourself again. Having panic attacks was always exhausting. 

> You aren’t surprised that they take you up on the offer, or that they seem almost eager to be going. You rise as well and allow the chairs to fade with a thought, watching them and taking in the way their head hangs.
> 
> Like a puppet with their strings cut, you muse. But they’ll bounce back from this, you’d see to that. What other choice did they have? What other choice was there for you?
> 
> You head for the door silently to open it, gesturing them through and closing it behind you before you start back towards the barracks. “We will resume training tomorrow,” you tell them as you walk, trying to focus on getting them back on track. “But you may relax tonight. I will get in contact with Dhraji if I can, and will tell you when to expect him tomorrow.”

You follow Vadaya through the door glancing up at him as he talks.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. Following on behind him. He leads you back to the barracks, a walk you’ve taken back together many times.

You’ve always appreciated his company but now you can’t help but wonder if he did so just to make sure you didn’t do something evil.

“I’ll see you later,” you say, giving him a wave, as you approach as you reach the recruit wing. “I’ll- I’ll do better tomorrow.”

You just need some rest. You can rest and be better tomorrow.

You head back to your room. The hallways are pretty bare, most the recruits busy during this time of night. You make it back to your room without incident, slipping into the quiet and locking the door behind you.

A tightness seizes your chest, and you grasp at it, as a dark crushing weight suddenly sets in on your shoulders. A panic attack? Why now? As soon as you were safe?

You wish- no you don’t wish Vadaya was still with you. You want anyone, anyone besides him, who would care, as you sink against the door, clutching your shoulders as sobs work their way up your throat. You thought telling Vadaya might help him understand you more.

Instead you just feel more alone.


	11. Dhraji

> It had been rather easy to get Dhraji to agree to meet Daginy. You had almost been surprised at how earnestly curious he had been about the idea, to be honest- but you had realized that even though Dhraji hadn’t been part of the team that had helped Daginy with their time in the medical wing, he still knew of them.
> 
> The institute wasn’t so busy that patients just went in and out without being noticed after all, especially anyone that needed special care like Daginy had. Curiosity always arose, Dhraji had just been polite enough about it to not go snooping. The Oliveblood was as he had always seemed to be to you- one of those almost uncomfortably nice trolls, perhaps made a bit nervous by being spoken to by a troll of your rank but still pleasant.
> 
> You hope he would be the same for Daginy, but you didn’t have too many concerns over that as you went to fetch the brownblood from the barracks. You’d already told the Oliveblood where to meet the both of you and gave plenty of room between your arrival and his to make sure Daginy was still comfortable with the idea. After all, this was supposed to be something they wanted to do, not that they were forced in to.
> 
> Still, you arrived to the barracks a bit ahead of schedule. You glance at your phone before you slide it away, wondering when it would be that you felt it was safe enough to give Daginy one of their own. Being able to message them would be convenient, and if they wanted to stay in contact with Dhraji…
> 
> It was something to think about, at least. Something with monitoring on it to make sure they didn’t stray would be a prerequisite you were sure- anything else and you’d probably be seen as being too soft, empathizing too strongly and being swayed in to giving them too much slack.
> 
> You shoved down the sigh that always wanted to come out when you thought too strongly about your position as a handler, and you waited for Daginy to arrive.

You’re nervous. You’re so nervous. You have so many nerves you’re pretty sure a decent psychic could pull them all out and knit you a sweater.

You’ve checked yourself over three times in the mirror, wet a comb and attacked your hair, even checked your teeth for anything untowards stuck in them, which doesn’t even make sense because you’re going to go get food with Dhraji.

You want this, you remind yourself. You have to keep improving. What if you fail and they decide you’re too incompetent at working with a team to let you stay?

Dhraji isn’t even supposed to be your battery, you have to remind yourself. Vadaya suggested this because you said you wanted friends, and you do- desperately.

The time grows nearer, and you can’t fuss any more about your appearance if you want to be punctual. Besides, there is nothing you can do to your outside that’ll make you a better conversationalist or friend or person.

Vadaya will be waiting for you, you’re fairly certain. You pick up your head and square your shoulders. Fake it until you could make it is a saying you’re pretty sure. You march on out through the halls, trying to stay firm even though you end up ducking the gaze of everyone you pass in the halls.

When you finally arrive, your fists are in balls stuck to your sides, and you’re practically vibrating.

“Hello, sir,” you say, meeting his eyes and glancing back down. You’ve felt a little weird around Vadaya lately, since you showed him the memory. You don’t know if you want to be closer or if you want to step away from him.

Nothing has changed really, nothing at all- it’s just another secret to keep, this time one Vadaya shares- but even still, something is weird.

> Daginy is radiating nervousness from a distance- they’re so stiff that one might mistake that they were heading for a punishment, rather than something you were hoping they would find rewarding. But they had a lot riding on this meeting, didn’t they? Dhraji was the only troll you could think of that was around their age that wasn’t in the Academy.
> 
> You think this will go well, but you know they’ll only truly believe it when they actually meet the other troll. And perhaps afterwards Daginy would relax a bit, and this new tension between the two of you would begin to fade.
> 
> It’s odd, how much you notice the shift between you. But you had spent so many nights with Daginy now that it’s natural to be more aware of their moods, especially with a troll as volatile with their emotions as they could be at times. You like to think they’re improving, but it would be nice if there would stop being these… Set backs.
> 
> “Hello Daginy,” you greet, gesturing for them to follow as you start moving. No need to linger in front of the barracks where too many curious eyes might decide to start watching. You’re sure Daginy faces enough criticism without adding fuel to the fire.
> 
> “You are still interested in meeting Dhraji, I hope.” You think they are, but you know it won’t hurt to confirm with them. And maybe having to say it out loud might help them settle down some. Or make it worse. You could never tell with Daginy.

Vadaya greets you as always as you nod, and follow behind him.

“Yes,” you answer. The last thing you wanted was to have any of this canceled or whatever, even if you were kind of terrified. “I’m just- just nervous.”

Meeting Dhraji, even if it goes badly, won’t  _kill_  you. Well, you don’t know, it might, it felt like there was a lot that could kill you- but this one seemed unlikely and it was just nerves.

You fall back into silence, wondering what you should even say to him. You think he’s picked up the fact you’re nervous- you’re so tense right now after all, but do you want to tell him anything else?

Confess your fears? If you don’t say anything, he’s not likely to ask, you’re sure. You  _want_  to be able to talk with Vadaya, you don’t want things to be weird forever either, you just- you just want things to be ok again. You hesitate.

“What- what if he doesn’t like me?” you murmur. Just admission feels like an open wound and you fall silent, watching the floor pass under your feet.

> One hurdle down- their nerves are those of meeting someone new, not because they’ve decided against the whole venture. You could work with nervousness. Hadn’t you already been doing that since you had taken the assignment as their handler after all?
> 
> “The only thing you can do for your nerves is meet him,” you point out calmly as you walk, wishing they would fall in to step beside you rather than behind you. You can’t see their emotions this way, gauge if they’re going to fall in to a panic attack or if they’re just going to continue to worry until this meeting has happened.
> 
> At least they don’t sound like they’re on the edge of a meltdown, even if their voice hitches a bit on the question. When they say things like this, looking like they do… It’s almost easy for a troll to forget what they’ve done, what they’re capable of.
> 
> Some trolls, but not you. Not when you have Zavare’s absence to always remind you.
> 
> “What about you would he not like?” You question as you head for one of the spare offices, left empty and waiting for anyone to occupy them temporarily. “He is not a troll that hates others easily. I would not introduce you if I did not think there was a chance for the both of you to get along.” You still weren’t that good at reassurance, and it felt odd even to try. But that didn’t stop you from the attempt.

You follow Vadaya to the spare offices, and file in after him, fiddling with the edge of your jacket.

In the end, it’s always about how much you trust Vadaya, isn’t it? Do you trust his judgement? Do you believe he’s making the best choices for you? 

Yes, you have to believe. You have to believe he is. 

You stumble over your thoughts again as you try to figure out how to voice what exactly is bothering you. Words just doesn’t always seem like enough, to explain what you’re thinking. 

“I’m just- I’m  _me_ ,” you start off slowly. “I’ve done- I’ve done terrible things, haven’t I? How can I expect anyone to  _like_  me? Am I different from back then?” 

You take a deep breath and smooth your palms on your pants and look up at Vadaya. You’ve never dared asking about who you were before, not since that first day. But he’s already stayed his hand once, maybe he’d do it again. 

Maybe he has answers, because you certainly don’t. Even with your one memory, it doesn’t really tell you about who you  _were_. 

You drop your gaze again. 

“The other recruits-” you mutter. “They already don’t like me. If they knew I was- you know- they wouldn’t ever let me live it down.” 

You can imagine the crap they’d give you over it. The bullying you’ve been dealing with compounded with the knowledge you had been the enemy- you’re not sure you’d come away from that unscathed. 

“Dhraji-” you trail off, and stare off at the door. “Does he already know? And he’s going to be different?” 

You fold your trembling hands together and stare at the floor again. Vadaya’s offering you the hope, but it scares you to take it. If he’s wrong…. 

> You can’t say you’re fond of the paths that Daginy’s mind are going down. It seems dangerous, like they could easily slip in to destructive self-loathing. The statistics for trolls rehabilitated in Daginy’s manner flashed in to your mind again for a fleeting second before you pushed them away.
> 
> “If you were not different, you would not have gotten to where you are now.” You meant it to be encouraging, but you wonder if they’ll take it as a reminder, a threat. “You are a likeable troll Daginy, but the recruits…” You don’t know what to tell them- how much you’re willing to share.
> 
> Still, they need some sort of encouragement. “Anyone who is different from the other recruits are disliked. Part of learning cohesion can be to want everyone to be as one- and the nail that sticks out gets hammered. I faced it as a recruit as well.” You don’t really like talking about your younger sweeps- you have a feeling this won’t be the end of talking about it either, not with the way Daginy comes up with questions.
> 
> But you can move them away from the topic, with something else that interests them. “Dhraji is aware. He is part of Medical, though he did not work with you. But his supervisor is… Like you. He was a rehabilitated troll.” You doubt they thought they were the only rebel that had been through the process, though Tomois was not nearly to the same extent as Daginy.
> 
> “So Dhraji will not judge you based on your past. Do not worry about that.” You check the clock, hoping the other young troll will be on time. “He should be here soon.”

He tells you are different, that it was the only way you could have made it this far and you nod slowly. You can’t help wringing your hands some more. You can’t help but wish you did know more about yourself, just so you could know what  _not_  to do. You’ve got all these thoughts and inclinations that you seem  _useful_ , but not necessarily  _good_. 

Your actions are different than what you’ve done before, obviously- you’re pretty sure you know what you did to land you in hot water, but you don’t know who you  _were_  behind all that. You have no idea why you did all of those bad things. 

How well  _did_  Vadaya even know you? If you were enemies. It’s a strange thing to think, that you could ever have been. If you looked at how things were now, and how well he knew you  _now,_ under his care… well. 

You can’t really say. 

Your thoughts are wiped out though, when Vadaya continues though, and pretty much admits that he was bullied as a recruit too. You blink up at him, astounded. You can’t imagine Vadaya as a recruit. It feels like he’s been a Major forever and ever. 

“Really?” you say incredulously. “You?” Then you remember that indigo psions aren’t exactly common, especially indigos who are so cuspy they’re practically seadwellers. That’d stand out among lowblood psions as easily as your nervous behavior. 

Somehow that makes you feel instantly better, as does the assertion that not only did Dhraji know and didn’t care, but the fact that his supervisor was like you. It feels like your world has gotten much much bigger with just a couple of words on his part, the weight on your shoulders suddenly lifted. 

You had known that there had to be others like you out there, but to have someone so  _close_  you could practically touch them _-_ well. Things suddenly seem possible for you. You swallow and straighten, jut your chin out upward. 

“Would it be okay if I- if I met them too?” you ask. “At some point. Not now, of course.” 

That might be overwhelming, honestly, but at  _some_  point, you’d wanna meet someone like  _you._

> They don’t seem too reassured, but why would they? It was not as if you knew them well, before- just as the illusive quarry that managed to stay one step ahead of you for so long. They had only fallen once you had destroyed every strand there was to find in their spy network, burnt the whole thing to cinders until they had no one left to run to.
> 
> But you hold firm that they’re different now. That they’re even concerned about not being different sends off quite a few warning signals, but you focus on the fact that they don’t want to be like they had been. And if you keep doing your job, they won’t be and this worry will fade away. You had to believe that.
> 
> At least you’re able to draw them out of those dangerous thoughts, astound them enough that they actually seem to doubt your words. “That is correct,” you affirm even though there’s no real need to, you can see them drawing the right conclusions. “Being a recruit is hard on all trolls, for different reasons. But do not worry about them, because the other recruits will just be a small part of your life.”
> 
> It’s the same words that you used to use for yourself, when you were always excluded from activities as a wriggler. “Once you graduate, you will probably never see a good portion of them again. You are unique in that you already know where you will be placed.” You hope that Dhraji will be a good distraction from the other recruits for them.
> 
> “If you wish to meet him, we can arrange it,” you agree, because it’s inevitable that they’ll meet. Tomois knows about them and he’s always curious about newcomers- especially rehabilitated ones. You’d had to make it clear that he wasn’t to hunt Daginy down for a meeting without your permission because you didn’t always trust his exuberance.
> 
> But sooner or later the two of them would work together. Tomois gets assigned to assist your battery enough that it’s a matter of when, not if. Best that they have some sort of communication well before that happens.
> 
> “But another time, of course.” You’re cut off from having to talk further when you reach your destination. Dhraji isn’t standing outside of the office and there’s no sign of him just yet, so you slide your keycard and let the door open, ushering Daginy inside.
> 
> It’s nothing too grand, really- it’s mostly used for meetings when in use, just a table with an assortment of chairs, a projector that lays disassembled and stuffed away in to a corner. But it will suit your needs just fine.

He opens the door and gestures you inside and when you walk on in, it’s a room you haven’t ever seen before. A long table with several chairs and a projector case, and an otherwise plain looking room. 

“Right,” you say, still nervous. Vadaya’s calmed you down quite a bit really, pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts even if he hasn’t quite quashed every worry. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “I feel better.” 

Some part of you is still convinced that there’s no way Dhraji will like you, but you have to tell yourself that there’s no way for you to actually  _know_ until you meet. You just have to trust Vadaya on this. 

You step nervously around the table, giving the room a quick scan and picking a seat that puts your back to a wall. Force of habit? No idea. 

“Are we early?” you ask, folding your fingers together. You’re not shaking quite so bad anymore, but you’re already feeling a little strung out. 

> They feel better, and it’s somewhat of a relief that they actually sound like they mean it. They’re still quiet, but they aren’t stuttering just yet- you’re sure that will come back when Dhraji actually arrives.
> 
> You watch them pick their seat but remain standing, wondering if they’ll feel more comfortable if you stayed or if you left. You had no reason to distrust Dhraji with them- Dhraji had been nothing but a good loyal troll ever since he was brought in. He was no fighter, but he had his role and he dedicated himself to it.
> 
> “Just a bit, he should be here soon.” You tell them, and just like that there’s a knock at the door. Well timed you think, giving Daginy a once-over before you move to open it for the Oliveblood.
> 
> Dhraji looks about as non-offensive as a troll could be, you think. There’s not much of a hard edge to any part of him and he’s already smiling even if he doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “Hello Major,” he chirps up, light and cheery before he hesitates- you watch as he starts to fidget and rethinks it, hands dropping instead. Trying to make a good impression, you think.
> 
> “I hope I’m not too late?” He asks as you step aside, gesturing him in. “You are not,” you assure, trying to gauge Daginy’s reaction as Dhraji steps in to the room. “We have just arrived.” Dhraji’s nod is a series of them, and the look he tosses Daginy almost reads as  _shy_ as he looks to Daginy, tucking his hair behind an ear.
> 
> “Hi. I mean, hello. I’m Dhraji. It’s nice to get to meet you!” At least Dhraji still seemed as buoyant as ever, even if there was some nervousness. You just had to watch and hope that they managed to click.

You shoot to your feet as you hear a knock on the door, holding your breath. Any calm you might have felt from before seems to have deserted you as Vadaya turns looks you over as if to make sure you’re presentable and welcomes Dhraji in. 

You hear him first- he even  _sounds_ friendly, a bright note in his voice you’d never hear in Vadaya’s. When Vadaya steps back to let him in, you snap to attention as he walks in. You blink for a second, as you watch his long plaits dance with every bob of his head. Your eyes meet for the barest second- they’re very green- and you drop your gaze to the ground. He’s really  _pretty_. 

You raise a hand and run your fingers through your hair, tugging on the short hairs in the back just slightly. 

“Hi,” you say quietly, still looking- anywhere but Dhraji. Are you blushing? You hope you’re not blushing. You pull your psi to your face to cover it, just in case. It’s a familiar pull, like you’ve done it a thousand times before. 

“I’m- I’m um, I’m Daginy,” you say, one hand still on your head as you hesitate, then reach out with the other to shake. He sounds so  _friendly_ , you’re not sure how to  _deal_  with that. Was that nervousness? At meeting you? You don’t know why- he wasn’t forced to do this, was he?

“Nice to meet you too,” you say, glancing back at Vadaya, and then back to Dhraji. He doesn’t look like he doesn’t want to be here at least, and he doesn’t have his supervisor hanging over him. 

> You certainly didn’t expect Daginy to be the smoothest of characters when meeting someone new- they had always come off as awkward to you when they weren’t trying to avoid it. And with their earlier nerves… Well. You aren’t surprised when they drop their eyes after a second.
> 
> At least with Dhraji that was always the best course of action. Dhraji was an obedient soldier, but you always had to be careful with mind manipulators. You were high enough that your psychic defenses were stronger than most, but you still didn’t like to take chances.
> 
> You just didn’t expect them to act quite so bashful. The only thing missing is them scuffing their shoe against the ground, but at least Dhraji doesn’t seem put out by it at least. Instead his smile grows, though it’s still careful not to show teeth. It’s as good a start as you could hope for.
> 
> Especially when he takes their hand and gives it a shake- friendly not not overly firm, lingering for a moment before he lets them go. “I’m glad we got to meet! I heard about you- From the Major, I mean. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
> 
> He’s probably used to dealing with nervous patients, you think absently. You don’t have much worry that he won’t be able to handle Daginy, and Daginy… Seems welcoming, so far.
> 
> “Lunch is always better with company though, isn’t it?” He offers, looking at Daginy again. They’re even of a similar height, though Daginy remains shorter. “And it’s a lot quieter here than in the mess hall. Less chance of someone throwing anything too… Or at least, I hope so.” Dhraji grins at Daginy and you think maybe this venture will work.

He takes your hand, gloves as it is and shakes it. He’s got all his fingers. He doesn’t think it’s weird you don’t right? No, all the soldiers had them, and Vadaya said he worked in medical. He would know about that.

He lets the hold linger long enough that you can’t even argue he’s creeped out by it, and he says he’s been looking forward to it for a  _week_.

If you weren’t blushing before you were definitely doing so now. You can feel the heat rush to your face.

“O-oh!” you exclaim and force an unnatural sounding laugh as you try to figure out what to say next. “Oh I- I- um I hope it’s m-mostly good things.”

Oh empress the stutter is real. He smiles brilliantly at you and you have to look down again. You hope desperately you don’t look too much like a bobble head doll

“Um- yes,” you manage. “The uh- the um mess hall can- it’s loud, yes. It’s- it’s nice, nice to be able to eat with s-someone. I- I don’t think I’m- well I’m not going to- I won’t throw anything. P-promise.”

You’re pretty sure you’ve never been this flustered in your  _life_. You kind of wish the floor would open you up and swallow you whole.

You throw a glance at Vadaya- maybe he’s got some cue or hint as to what to do.

Part of you feels some sympathy for Daginy- they clearly aren’t used to socializing, and some of that fault lies with you. They had been restricted to make sure that they saw you favorably, but it meant that their ability to connect to other trolls was a bit… Damaged.

But you wonder how much of that was natural as well. They had never struck you as a social butterfly after all, even when they sometimes longed for more trolls to be around than you. Who could blame them for wanting someone they could relate to more?

But they’re awkward about it, their laugh sounding so forced that you inwardly wince. But Dhraji just seems to roll with it, smile still in place as he laughs back- lighter and far more natural than Daginy’s, without any mocking edge.

“Oh definitely, don’t worry about that!” Daginy still can’t even look at him, but Dhraji at least doesn’t seem ruffled by the lack of eye contact.

“And good, because I don’t think our superiors would be too happy about us making a mess in an office. Do you want to sit, then? I’ve been on my feet all night and the chairs here look comfy.” He gestures to the table as Daginy looks to you, probably looking for some sort of reassurance.

You aren’t sure what to give them. But you offer a nod, hoping it’s encouraging. You think they’re doing well enough- Dhraji doesn’t seem at all put off, after all.

Dhraji doesn’t even seem to notice what a mess you are, laughing like you’re being charming, responding like you’re not stuttering. Vadaya nods at you like you’re doing fine- you’re so not doing fine- but it still seems to be going alright. 

He says he’s just heard good things about you- and you find yourself wondering what those even were. That you’ve been succeeding adequately on your physical tests? What if he was lying? What if he just meant to go back to the rest of his coworkers and gossip about you? If you find out about it somehow, you’d probably die on the spot. You resist the urge to hide your face in your hands because your pan is not! Helping! At all! 

There has to be something irrational about hopping from the assumption that Dhraji was here at gunpoint, to the assumption that he was here to mock you. 

“Yeah!” you blurt out. “Let’s- let’s sit.” You plop back into your seat after you force your knees to unlock. Empress, you’re tense. You feel like a broken, wind up doll, trying to do what it was supposed to do. You’re supposed to be genuine with a person right? When you’re trying to make friends? 

You genuinely feel like a toxic waste bin, and no one wants to be friends with toxic waste. Maybe you can just… fake it a little? Ask him how things are going. The two of you don’t know anything about each other, after all. 

You glance back up at Dhraji, and at Vadaya- was he just going to stand their silent for this whole thing? You don’t even know where the food is coming from. Did Vadaya arrange to bring it? Were you supposed to bring something? Would you just have to watch the others eat if- no, no that was stupid, Vadaya wouldn’t do that to you (probably), and your pan is stupid and very unhelpful. 

“So um,” you say. “Y-you work in the medical w-wing, right?” 

Come to think of it, you’ve never seen him there, even in all the trips you’ve made. To be fair, you’ve been kind of kept away from most of the mess there, but there were a lot of things to do there, wasn’t it?

“What d-do you do?”

> Dhraji was definitely the right troll to introduce to Daginy, you’re starting to assure yourself as you watch them interact. You don’t know how long it will take the Brownblood to relax- you’re not sure if they actually will. They certainly do not with you, not completely. But can you truly hold that against them?
> 
> Still. Daginy needed peers to socialize with, and it was about time they got that. The fellow recruits were a washout in a way you had expected even if you had hoped otherwise for them. It was hard to be the outcast after all, but at least you could offer them other options.
> 
> Dhraji sat as they did, though much more relaxed about it- he’s still smiling as he watches Daginy, but Daginy seems to be having a harder time of it. You’re almost surprised they didn’t shatter when they sat with how tense they were, but you doubted that would fade quickly either. Even with a troll as friendly as DHraji was, they still had a need to question things you were sure.
> 
> They look to you and you rather hope that you look somewhat encouraging. Now that you think they won’t immediately panic, it’s time to test them out for just a moment. “I will go and get your lunches,” you tell them both, Dhraji turning his smile on you as he nodded. “Yes, sir,” he chirped and you gave one last glance to Daginy before you moved to the door. It wasn’t far from here to your office, and you had already planned out a meal with nothing that might upset Daginy. Giving them this trial of alone time would let you know if you should stick around for the meal itself.
> 
> As the door swung shut behind you, Dhraji returned his attention to Daginy, smile not faltering. In fact, it grows a bit at the curiousity in his career, fingers idly twisting at the metal bracelet around his wrist in an absent-minded manner as he nods. “I do! Uh, I’m not a mediculler myself though, or any sort of docterrorist. I’m mostly just an assistant!”
> 
> He gnaws on his lip for a moment, worrying the flesh as he thinks. “Mostly I just do my best to make sure my patients are calm and comfortable. I talk with them when they want to, I get them things they want as long as they’re allowed, and I spend time with them if they need me. I mostly just try and make things as smooth as they can be, for trolls who are probably already unhappy. I mean, no one really likes being stuck in medical. So I do my best to help them.” He smiles as he finishes his explanation, pleased.
> 
> “How are things with Major Urvata? Are you, well. Enjoying your training, I guess? I admit, I don’t know much about what you recruits go through. I don’t see a lot of them, hopefully.”

Vadaya says he’s going to leave and you freeze for a moment, meeting his eyes just before he disappears out the door, which clicks shut. 

He’s  _leaving_ youalone- with Dhraji- and your pan doesn’t want to process it because you’re suddenly terrified again- you stare at Dhraji- he doesn’t do anything but chatter on, and you completely miss out on the beginning of his explanation as you try to grapple with the sudden emotion that springs out of nowhere.

Nothing’s  _different_. Why do you suddenly feel like Dhraji’s about to hurt you? He’s not- he’s just sitting there, talking about helping people and being generally cute and charming. And Vadaya would be back soon. You’ve jumped to so many conclusions in the past five minutes- maybe you’re just crazy, honestly, and Vadaya’s wasting his time training a nut job. 

And then Dhraji asks you how your training is going and your mind goes blank again. What  _do_  you think about it? Have you ever been asked? Vadaya was never the sort to ask about your feelings. 

You duck your head again, clenching your fists in your lap to keep from curling up like you want to. Whatever his intentions, you still don’t want him to think you’re a nut job too. 

Because  if you tell him you’re not happy, that you’re so scared all the time now, that you don’t know if you’ll make it- would he tell Vadaya? He had offered this friendship with Dhraji right after your confession- did he sense your hesitance to share everything with him, and try to provide another avenue for you to spill your secrets? 

You’re kind of kicking yourself for not seeing that one earlier. 

You open your mouth as you realize you’ve been sort of just… sitting in silence. The words don’t want to come out- but you force an answer out anyways. 

“Um,” you mutter. “I- I uh- I mean our- our training isn’t the sort to- uh- to uh be enjoyed? I guess? But it’s- it’s alright, I mean, I’m- I’m pretty sure I’m getting better. I’m- I’m definitely learning a lot. Major Urvata is- he’s been too kind.”

You glance back up at Dhraji before you drop your gaze again. Technically, you didn’t even lie.

> They’re starting to get there, Dhraji reassures himself as they start to slowly unwind. It’s just about giving them the right amounts of sympathy as well as giving them plenty to think about other than their own worries! He’d always been good at helping trolls relax, always happier taking the non-violent path no matter what.
> 
> And he didn’t even need his psionics to pull it off! Well, usually at least. Those were always the last resort if he ever got a say, but… He knew Daginy was rehabilitated. He didn’t know everything that went in to that job, but he knew enough!
> 
> After all, they had thought about putting him on that career path before, with his hypnosis. The way he could implant subliminal commands deep enough to where trolls never stopped to consider that they weren’t their own thoughts was useful for that sort of stuff.
> 
> He’s just glad they didn’t, he was much happier working in the medical wings with scared trolls. Like Daginy.
> 
> “He is, and he always loves meeting new people too,” he’s quick to reassure Daginy, wanting them to continue to feel comfortable with talking. “And I’m sure you can, as soon as the Major okays it! Maybe you could have a lunch with him too.”
> 
> He pulls his hands away from his bracelet to fold them on the table, but his legs tart swinging instead. He’s never been good at sitting still, but does Daginy mind that? It’s hard to read them past the nerves!
> 
> “I’ve been here… Oh, a bit over a sweep? Close to a sweep and a half now, I think!” He doesn’t know if he should go in to the details on how he got brought in- he doesn’t want Daginy to think everyone was a criminal around here! And even if shoplifting wasn’t as bad as everyone else, he still didn’t really like  _talking_ about it. 

You nod and give him a smile as he mentions a lunch with his mentor- something you’d like, you think. Dhraji’s so reassuring about everything, even as he fiddles with his jewelry, you wonder if he had any real nerves going into this too. The idea of anyone being scared of you is so strange, even if you  _knew_ that you had been a criminal at one point, and there were probably people out there who you hurt. 

You push the thought away- it’s no use dwelling on things from your past you’re not allowed to know about, much less change. You’re holding a conversation with someone new! It’s part of  _being_  different, you think, to not have to think about the past too much. You think you’d like to be able to do that. 

“Why did you join?” you ask him. You asked Vadaya about his entry into the program on that first day when you woke up, you remember. His psi was what brought him here, away from the subbjugulators, when he was still very young. You know how you joined- as retribution for past crimes, which is how you’re guessing Dhraji’s mentor came in, if he was also part of the rehabilitation program. You kind of wonder if anyone joined just because they wanted to. 

> He’s pretty sure Daginy is starting to relax around him, and the thought is a relief. Dhraji definitely thought Daginy needed someone other than the Major to speak to, especially when his handler was as stern a man as Vadaya was. He couldn’t imagine trying to talk about emotions with the indigo, despite how well he did as a soldier.
> 
> No, Daginy needed friends. And Dhraji was more than happy to provide, as long as Daginy wanted! And every bit of them opening up and asking questions feels like a victory that he hopes continues. He’s sure it wouldn’t take much of a misstep to make them retreat and close up again.
> 
> “Well I grew up… Not great? My lusus is tiny, and once I started getting bigger she couldn’t provide much for me. I got my hive taken from me and once I was on the streets, I didn’t get my stipend. So I kind of used my psionics to steal, until I got caught doing it. And I got offered a job here! I got a hive, a salary… It was just nice to have all those things, not to mention everyone is nice and easy to work with.” He forces himself not to fiddle with his bracelet, not wanting to seem like he’s nervous over the tale. “I feel really fortunate to be here, really.”

You’re not sure what you expected from his story but I wasn’t that! Something about it seems familiar though- you wonder if you had met him before and he was just reintroducing himself. You wonder if he’d tell you if you asked.

“It’s nice that they give so many second chances,” you say quietly. “It seems like it’s pretty common, huh?” Not among the other recruits in your class, you don’t think, but it seems like almost every other troll you’ve met outside of the program is rehabilitated.

“What’s your psi do?” you ask. Some kind of telekinesis? To lift up objects and steal them away. What still has a medical application? You’ve probably used your own psi to steal more than once- you could turn invisible, for empress’ sake. But you don’t know if you could use any of it for medicine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thats that this thread is DONE


	12. Meeting the Fam

You swallow nervously as you step in behind Vadaya and in through the door. The gym was built for psions- huge, with high ceilings and open space for sparring practice and exercise with two inch mats on the ground, but also a jungle gym and different terrains to practice combat on.

You’ve been here before, when you had a tour of the facility, and with your trainee classes, but this time you’re here to meet the rest of Vadaya’s battery.

You bounce nervously on your heels as you go over the information you already know about Nanako Bonjou and Casman Kainya. Nanako’s an oliveblood with invulnerability psi who’s impulsive and friendly. Casman’s a yellowblood with eye lasers and a penchant for extreme sports. Vadaya cares about them both very much, and you desperately, desperately want them to like you. What you know about them could fit on a sticky note- it’s hardly a comprehensive file. If you knew more, you could prepare, but actually giving you, the ex-rebel, their files would have been crazy. Vadaya’s already aware of your blackmailing habit, and while he’s approved of using it to manage your classmates, you think he’d take a different tact if you tried it with his friends.

As it was, it feels as though you’re walking in blindfolded. You’d reach for Vadaya’s hand if you weren’t afraid it’d make you look weak in front of his battery.

The gym’s pretty much empty at this time- the Burning Barghests were known to be a little destructive, you had heard, so the other batteries scheduled their practices for different times. You can see them, at the other end of the gym when you step in, a bobbing white shock of hair beneath a curling set of horns and a shorter figure with a single horn protruding from her forehead. You see the colors of their uniforms. Nanako, and Casman respectively.

You can’t help it- you shy behind Vadaya.

“Are you alright?” he asks you.

“J-just nervous,” you say. Your hands are gloved, but you’re sweating inside them, and you rub them pointlessly against your pants. “I just want them to like me.”

“I am sure you will get along,” Vadaya says. You look up at him, looking for his calm, for any kind of steadiness. “Welcoming a new battery member is always an adjustment, but they are both friendly.”

You nod, still not quite assured, but there was nothing to be done now. You had requested to watch a practice session, Vadaya obliged, and you were not about to walk out now.

“I’ll be okay,” you say, voice quiet as you approach. You’re not convinced, but you’d do it anyway. This was important. If you didn’t get along- if Vadaya decided he didn’t want you, you’re not sure what’s going to happen to you.

The two women of Vadaya’s battery watch you carefully as you approach, and you try not to wring your hands. You know they’re watching you as carefully as you’re watching them. Nanako looks pretty strange- you’ve never seen anyone like her, not that that’s saying much with her hair bleached bone white and deep, even, scars cut into her cheeks. You wonder who put them there. She bounces on the balls of her feet, her fingers linked and her arms pulled straight behind her. She smiles when she sees Vadaya, but it fades as her gaze lands on you.

You can’t see Casman’s eyes from behind her mirrored lenses- a precaution with her eye laser psi?- but her mouth is carefully neutral as she surveys you. You think you might be starting off on negative preconceptions.

“Nanako, Casman,” Vadaya says, nodding in greeting. “This is Daginy.”

You chance a wave. “H-hi,” you say. The word sounds small. Your voice sounds small. You look to the side, clear your throat, and try again.

“Hi,” you say, nodding. “It’s nice to meet you guys.”

“Very small, leh,” Nanako comments. “Eh, sure they can fight?”

“Yeah,” Casman says. “Sorry to say it right off but liiiike. They’re tiny.”

You shrink a little at the immediate judgment.

Vadaya glances back at you, then turns back towards the other two. “They are still in training,” he says evenly. “They are not battle ready yet but I believe they will be an asset to us.”

“Sure,” Casman says. “Whatever you say, big guy. How useful is their psi again?”

“I have illusions,” you pipe up, eager to sound useful. “I can manipulate light.”

Nanako and Casman exchange a glance and a chuckle that you don’t understand, except that you think it’s at your expense. You feel tears start to work their way up but you bite your lip viciously until they stop. This was just like meeting the other trainees, but the stakes were so much higher. You couldn’t just break down.

“They will not be practicing with us today,” Vadaya says. “They are here to observe.”

“Cannot run laps, yeah?” Nanako addresses you directly. “Too short, short, short to run with us?”

“Nanako,” Vadaya says sternly, just as you jump forward.

“I can run laps,” you say. You’ve gotten a lot fitter since you started training, and you have run a lot of laps. The extra exercise isn’t going to hurt. You look towards Vadaya for approval, who hesitates before he nods.

“Very well,” he says. “Though you will not be able to keep up with us.”

“I can try,” you reply firmly. Vadaya usually approved of you reaching for extra goals, but when you glance at the other members of his battery, you catch the tail end of Nanako’s eye roll, Casman’s little sigh.

You just want a chance, was that so much to ask?

“Ten laps around the floor,” Vadaya orders. It was a large floor- a run that’d take you probably thirty minutes even though you’ve been training for this sort of thing.

“Yessssssir, Dayasir” Nanako says, saluting, and then she, Vadaya and Casman are off like a shot. You strip off your jacket and take off after them.

It’s immediately obvious that Vadaya’s right- there’s no way you’ll be able to keep up with them. Nanako’s in front, running with a long, loping gait that springs her forward. Casman’s not far behind, her shorter legs working faster to keep up that speed. Vadaya’s behind her with a heavier gait, and they’re all already a quarter of a lap ahead of you. For a run like this you have to pace yourself, you know, but as often as you’ve been outpaced by your classmates, this is somehow even more frustrating.

They obviously don’t like you already. Vadaya must have told them something about you they don’t approve of, though you don’t think he would have done that on purpose. You hope so anyway. You wish meeting them was as nice as meeting Dhraji- but maybe everyone would hold grudges against ex-rebels.

Oh. Vadaya had mentioned before that you had clashed with him when you were still a rebel. His battery was also probably there. Maybe it was something you did then, that they still held a grudge against. It wasn’t you, you wanted to tell them. You were different now. That was someone else. But just telling them that while they felt like this would only prompt more suspicion and you have to prove you’re useful enough to fill the shoes Zavare had left.

Nanako laps you as you finish your first lap, then Casman, then Vadaya. You truck on.

They get ten laps done while you’re still on number six. You watch as they converse quietly when you’re far away and fall silent when you come close. Nanako’s sulking, you can see, her arms crossed and leaning against the wall. Casman’s got a frown under her glasses. Did Vadaya tell them off? Would they resent you now, for earning them a lecture? Would they be as petty as the other recruits?

You finish your laps a whole ten minutes after they do, according to the clock. Nanako and Casman are already sparring when you pull into the last stretch. You note that Casman is wearing guards but Nanako isn’t. You’re panting hard and sweating but not completely wasted, at the very least. It’s a relief, even, to be too exhausted to care too much about what they think as you slow to a walk.

“Here,” Vadaya says, and hands you a water bottle. You take it, too breathless to thank him, and swallow a few mouthfuls.

“My apologies,” he says. You look up at him, surprised, which he notes. “For the way the others judged you. I failed to see how much bitterness Zavare’s injury left in its wake.”

You take another drink and shake your head.

“Not your fault,” you say, then pause. You look up at him again, wary. “Was… was it something I did? From- from before. I mean.”

You’ve got no way of remembering- Vadaya’s the only one can tell you if your hunch is correct.

He pauses, then answers carefully. “As a battery, we saw you at your worst,” he says. “It may take some time before they see past the deeds you have done.”

“Right.” You nod slowly, filing that away. It hurts to hear it, but as much progress you’ve made with Vadaya, you guess it’s too much to expect everyone else to forgive you. You don’t know what you’ve done in your past, but whatever it was, it was awful enough they had to make you forget you had done it. That’s not the sort of thing everyone can forgive, and you’ll just have to bear it now. “I can be useful. I’ll show them I can be useful.”

Vadaya nods.

“They will come around,” he says. “Do your stretches, then watch us spar.”

You watch them as you do your stretches, touching your toes and pulling at your shoulders, and when you’re done you take a seat quietly at the side. You watch with your eyes and your psi as you try to keep track of their rapid movements.

They spar with psi and without. Nanako’s is always on, and she bounces around the battlefield like a wrecking ball. The care she has to take when she fights Casman is gone when she spars with Vadaya. He’s one of the only indigoes in Scimitar- he can take the hits she throws at him and vice versa. Neither of them are wearing armor.

You could see why the two of them were placed on the same battery. Casman’s psi is to volatile to use on her teammates so she ends up sitting on the sidelines too, watching Vadaya’s purple constructs wink in and shatter under Nanako’s blows, and Nanako bound around her changing surroundings as Vadaya built faster than you could breathe.

“Pretty impressive, isn’t it?” Casman comes to stand by you and you watch her with a wary eye too. “Oh put that look away. I won’t bite you.”

You look down, unsure of what to say, or what she even wants.

“I just wanna know,” she says, “you look at Nanako and Vadaya duke it out. You really think you can keep up with them?”

You look back up at the dueling psions, moving much, much faster than you ever could, even with all the training in the world. You think hard about your response before you can give it.

“It won’t be my job to keep up,” you say slowly. “It’ll be my job to protect them. And I can do that.”

Casman snorts softly, incredulous.

“Whatever you say, twerp,” she says, then moves back towards her water bottle.

You turn back to look at the spar, mind racing for options and possibilities. You can help, you know it, and you come up with a couple strategies for exactly that.

There’s a loud crack as Nanako lands a hit, breaking through the constructed sword and sending Vadaya flying. If you or Casman got hit like that you’d be back in the med bay with ten broken ribs. Instead, Vadaya just sits up, rubbing that spot.

“Good show, lah,” Nanako says, still bouncing. “Watch your blindspots Daya!”  

“I know,” Vadaya says, with a slight rueful smile as he stands. “Again?”

Nanako nods, and you hop up from your seat before you can change your mind.

“Wait!” you exclaim. Everyone looks at you, but you swallow and jog up to Vadaya.

“What is it?” He looks up at Nanako, then back down at you quizzically. You’re interrupting. But you can’t let yourself get sidelined either, so you gather up all your courage. If Nanako and Casman wanted to get rid of you, you’d make it hard for them to do it.

“I want to help,” you say, low. Vadaya leans in to hear you. “I have- I have some ideas about how to assist.”

Vadaya listens to them, and frowns down at you.

“Yes,” he says. “That is feasible. Are you sure you can keep up?.”

“I’m sure,” you say, with a nod, even though you’re really not. You flex your fingers- you don’t like to think about the empty space between your fingers, but if there was ever a time for them to come in handy it was now. Nanako and Casman don’t have to like you, they just have to respect your contribution.

“Then I would be eager for the experiment,” Vadaya says. “If you feel as though you are about to burn out, stop.”

You nod, and he straightens back up.

“Daginy wishes to assist me with their psi in the course of this next spar,” Vadaya announces. “Would you be alright with that Nanako?”

Nanako cracks her neck and rolls her shoulders.

“Sure, lah,” she says, and nods towards you. “Little one is a target or nah, nah? Promise to tap, mor.”

You hold your breath and look towards Vadaya. An excuse to snap your neck and call it an accident? Nanako would get sanctioned but you would still be dead.

“Not today,” Vadaya says, and you let out the breath you were holding. “One thing at a time.”

“Fine, leh,” Nanako says, standing at the ready. “Time to see what little Dags can do, yeah?”

You turn back and jog towards the side of the gym, fists clenched and adrenaline flooding your system. It’s different from facing down the other recruits, when you freeze up and get knocked down. It’s like in chess games, when you see an opening and you itch to take it.

Casman’s sitting up too, watching you with renewed interest.

The two combatants face each other in position, as you move towards Nanako’s side. You hold your breath.

Vadaya constructs- a handful of wedges sharp enough to serve as weapons, wide enough to work as shields. You work as fast as he does- you pull a template off his constructs and triple their number in illusions and send them whirling with the rest. Geometric shapes are easy to work with- you’d see how effective they could be.

Nanako bounds forward, raising her arms to break through a wedge, only to stumble through an illusion. She’s thrown off balance. Vadaya spots an opening and bowls into her. Nanako curls against the blow and flips back through the air. You’ve seen her bounce off of constructs for momentum- you move an illusion into her path and she instinctively attempts to land where she can’t and ends up crashing to the ground as you run to find a better vantage point.  She rolls back to her feet, fists up but eyeing the field of floating constructs with a wary respect that feels like vindication.

Vadaya doesn’t allow her to take stock of her options. He’s already flying forward again, with his sword at the ready for another blow. As much as your illusions can limit her maneuverability, Vadaya was the one who had to actually make contact.

Nanako blocks the blade with her forearm, up too close for it to be an effective range. You watch anxiously as they trade blows- Nanako snaps out a fist towards Vadaya’s face- he blocks the blow, barely, she’s faster than him. He steps forward to shove her back- he’s stronger, but as the distance opens, Nanako’s knee comes up and a kick snaps into Vadaya’s side.

He grunts, and your clench your fists tighter. You can’t help so much in a close combat fight like this. Throw random illusions to distract and disorient? You can’t risk distracting Vadaya too. You warp her vision then, setting the frequency you use to adjust the vision in your bad eye in front of Nanako’s face.

“Wha-” she says, blinking rapidly, too distracted to guard against Vadaya’s fist, which plows into her head and knocks her down, sending her rolling over her head till she’s face down on the ground.

Oops. Did you go too far? Vadaya dismisses his constructs so you let your illusions loose and jog over to make sure she wasn’t hurt.

“That’s enough,” he says, and extends his hand to Nanako, who pushes herself up and rubs her head before clasping her hand in his. “Is something wrong?”

“Oof,” she says, blinking and looking around quizzically, rubbing her head. She turns towards you. “Was that you, ah?” she asks.

“What did you do?” Vadaya asks. There’s an edge to his tone you can’t place, and when you look up at him, his face is stony. There are lines of anger around his mouth. You stop in your tracks, your hands already flying to your shoulders in a sign of surrender. Did you just jeopardize your goodwill with Vadaya?

“I’m really really sorry,” you say hurriedly. “I didn’t- I- I didn’t mean-”

You just need to answer the question. You swallow, take a deep breath.

“I just- I bent her vision a little,” you say, voice small. “Like I do for my eye. But. Bigger.”

“Thought maybe I hit my head too hard, lah,” Nanako says, giving her skull a couple knocks. “And in practice? Shame shame shame. Is alright, lah.”

“And what do you do for your eye?” Casman asks from behind you. You jump and turn to face her.

“Um,” you say. You take another step back. “W-well, I’m near sighted. B-but in one eye, so. I just compensate with my psi.”

Casman hums thoughtfully. “Well that’s clever,” she says.

You glance at Vadaya, wary. It’s just the barest movements of his mouth and brows, but you know him well enough to know you’re watching him regain his composure.

“It is a clever application of your psi,” he says. “But perhaps do not use it during practice sessions.”

“Right, yes,” you say, looking down at your feet, embarrassed. “Thank you. You’re not um, hurt are you? Nanako?”

“Have a hard head, lah,” she replies. “Am fine, double confirm. Triple confirm.” She smiles wide, up at Vadaya, which seems to set him more at ease too.

“I have some ideas for you too,” you tell her, eager to show Vadaya you don’t have it out for his battery. “If- if you want to try.”  
  
“Yeah, lah?” Nanako says, putting her hands on her hips and leaning forward. “What you got?”

“Um, mirages. And invisibility, for you, that could like, flash.”

“Wah lao,” she says. “Show?”

You look towards Vadaya, who nods in assent, so you take a breath, and reach for the tapestry of light that surrounds you. Multiple copies of Nanako’s form appear around you, stock still, then begin to wink in and out of existence.

“Woah,” Casman says, waving her hand through a couple of fake Nanakos. You move the copies to a sort of auto pilot, then move place an invisibility cloak over Nanako, and have it blink in and out too.

“Like strobe lighting, lah,”  Nanako says, staring at her hands. You have the winking copies step back when she does, moving in unison.

“That’s creepy as fuck, goddamn,” Casman says. Nanako starts running in a circle around the three of you and you oblige, the clones flickering as you fake the run until she springs up behind Casman.

“Boo!” she yells as you dismiss the illusions.

“Empress!” Casman yelps and leaps forward. “Nana!”

Nanako just laughs and throws her arms around Casman’s neck. “Sorry sorryyyy,” she says and gives you a wink. “Looks like little Dags is useful, lah.”

“If you do not need to rest, practice aerial maneuvers with Casman,”  Vadaya says.

“Gonna grab water first, lah,” Nanako calls, and bounds away.

“Finally time for me to do something,” Casman says and stretches. She takes off her shades and strides to the middle of the room.

Then it’s just you and Vadaya. You’re not really sure how to interpret his flare of anger- Nanako and Casman didn’t seem to have noticed. Or maybe they did and just eased it off by distracting him.

“You did well today,” Vadaya says to you. “How is the strain on your psi?”

His words release the tight grip of fear around your pumper and you can suddenly breathe properly again. You duck and put a hand up to your mouth to hide your smile at his praise. You’re glad he thinks so- and Nanako and Casman have to see the value you bring to the team now too, even if they don’t like you.

“It’s fine,” you say. “The thing I tried with Nanako was harder than the fight. I have to work on multitasking better.”

“Perhaps use a psimudra,” Vadaya says. “They often help with the sort of split focus that requires.”

You nod and rub your horn. It’s never occured to you to do that. It always seemed more useful to keep your psi under the radar- people who didn’t know you were an illusionist wouldn’t be looking out for illusions.

“As a precaution,” Vadaya says, after a pause, “do not use any techniques in practice that you have not previously discussed with me.”

You swallow, and look up at him.

“Um, you mean like what I did to Nanako?” you say. He nods, his face schooled to a perfect blank. Your eyes find the floor again.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I just- I just wanted to help.”  
  
There’s a pause, and you hear Vadaya sigh.

“I appreciate your eagerness,” he says, “but your psi does present certain challenges by its very nature. The middle of a spar is not the time to surprise us with a new application of your versatile psi.”

You remember the wary anger in his face. He’s smiled more easily here, with his battery, than in any of the time he’s spent with you, and for a moment, you know he was worried you had hurt Nanako somehow.

He’s told you, that he can’t trust you. That his duty was to ensure that you’d never return to your former life, and that he would have to make inquiries into you because of it. You had accepted it, but you guess you didn’t realize that that distrust wasn’t just duty.

It wasn’t just your psi, you realize. It was you. Vadaya’s battery had already lost someone in the field, and the replacement he had been given was another rebel, someone he’d have to watch to make sure they didn’t turn, that wouldn’t take yet another batterymate from him.

You’ve heard the other instructors bark at their students, demanding nothing but obedience, hit the ones who disobey, but Vadaya’s never lifted a hand to you. Vadaya’s never said anything cruel to your face. You would have failed completely in regular training, something that made everyone else hate you, for not bearing the burden they did. You thought he cared, but Vadaya’s tactics in your training made sense: you were more fragile than the other recruits and when he was tasked with making one troll a better soldier, rather than weeding out the weak from a group, he had to be careful not to break you.

You turn to see Nanako toss Casman straight into the air. She flips, and the immense force of her psi pours out of her eyes to push her into another flip.

“It’s because it’s hard to tell when I’m using psi, right?” you say. “It’s a safety issue?”

Vadaya nods. “In practice it is better we stick to known quantities,” he says.

Would he tell you if it wasn’t? Maybe he did care for you, in a way. The chess games, setting you up with Dhraji, the careful consideration he always treated you with, they weren’t necessary, but on the list of things Vadaya cared about, his battery would always, always come before you.

“I understand,” you say, and bow your head.


	13. Daginy Murders Someone and Is Not Happy About It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: child murder, abuse, suicide thoughts and an attempt, self harm. DO MIND THE TRIGGER WARNINGS.

Afterwards, things are different between you and Vadaya.

You’re of two minds- the incident with Nanako was obviously your fault and you had rushed in, so eager to help that you didn’t consider the obvious ramifications of undermining a batterymate. Vadaya had been understandably, justifiably angry, especially since he was the one who actually hit her. You were lucky she hadn’t been hurt and that Vadaya had taken it for what it was- an accident.

Your second mind notes, distant like, thinks that was just a crack a facade. Vadaya’s been patient with you so far because he had to. He was all about discipline, after all. The anger in his face was because for a moment in his mind, you were a rebel who hurt his battery when he’s already lost a member. When Vadaya turned to you in anger you could imagine- or maybe it was remember- what it was like to be his enemy and most likely, Vadaya kept those times close to heart too.

Your second mind has a lot of opinions actually. That Vadaya has probably been manipulating you from the beginning- that the fact you don’t remember anything is a tool to keep you under control. And when you think that it’s justified, that this is a punishment for your previous crimes, your second mind reminds you that the only thing you actually remember is the fact you were captured and tortured so how were you supposed to know how much of what he said was true?

Your second mind is coldly analytical, views your life as a chessboard and reminds you that you aren’t just a pawn- you’re a captured one. You’ll always be a different color.

You don’t know why your thinkpan is starting up with this now, why everything has to be a suspicious conspiracy when you have so much work to do.

You don’t want to be searching for ulterior motives, or notice how you look to him for permission for everything. It doesn’t help you be a better teammate or a better soldier. Following orders is just what recruits do. After all, the strength of an army lies in strict discipline and obedience to their officers. (You’re not a soldier, your second mind thinks, incessant. You were a spy. They’d put you in Torrent if they could trust you.)

You sure wish your second mind would shut up.

Vadaya’s the same. It’s just you who’s more watchful and suspicious.

When it comes down to it, it’s not so hard ignoring that niggling voice at the back of your mind. You work hard, get better and Vadaya’s pretty pleased with your progress. You’re elated every time Vadaya smiles at a high score, thrilled every time he congratulates you on a win on the chess board. It’s not hard to ignore your second mind, in those moments when the most important thing is the good mark on the page.

You still wish things were better with the rest of his battery- you attend their practices and work on your psi but interacting with Nanako and Casman is still awkward. Casman makes jokes about how she won’t be the weakest link anymore. Nanako plays nice when Vadaya’s around, ignores you completely when he’s not, which is rare. You don’t complain. They’re not bullying you and at least you know what to expect now.

The other recruits keep their distance from you now, which is a big improvement and lets you focus on the actual work instead of just the responses you might draw. It’s a little lonely with no friends your age but you have Dhraji to visit, when you can. You tell him about your anxieties but never your suspicions. After all, you don’t know who else he might be talking to.

You’re still not great at hand to hand combat, but you’re improving a lot, as you get more and more confident you’re not just going to take a beating when you spar. You’ve even been winning a few, which is so much more of an ego boost than you expected. Things are hard, but you’re doing better, which makes you happy. Happier than you can remember being.

You just can’t worry too much about what your second mind thinks or you’ll go crazy.

Vadaya stops you, one night before you enter the training room.

“Daginy,” he says. “You made great progress.” He pauses for a moment, looking above your head for a moment as though he’s deciding if he should continue, then says, “I am proud of you.”

He’s leading into something, you can tell, but you can’t help the wide smile that spreads across your face and duck your head.

“Thank you,” you say, embarrassed that you’re so pleased. “I’ve worked hard.”

“You are almost ready for the field,” he says, “but there is one more thing we must make sure you’re capable of.”

“What is it?” you ask, looking up again. Whatever it is, you’re pretty sure you can do it.

Vadaya looks down at you, hesitant.

“You have a kind pumper,” he says, “but war is such a dangerous business that the mistakes which come from kindness are the very worst. One of the highest duties as a Scimitar is eliminating threats to the Empire and the most common form of this elimination is the culling of those who oppose it.”

The smile slips off your face as he speaks and your eyes flicker to the ground. You think you know what he’s about to ask you to do and suddenly you’re not as sure you can do it anymore.

“You are playing a support role,” he continues. “But that does not mean you will not be asked to take another life. It is part of our way of life and it will be asked of you again and again.”

He pushes open the training room door. There had always been cages lining the room- you had wondered if that was where they put recruits who had disobeyed their instructors, but the troll that was in the closest one was clearly not a recruit. He’s not in uniform for one. He’s in tattered street clothes, on his knees, his hands shackled behind him. Yellow blood leaks from a swollen cut on his head and glares at you from behind glasses that sit askew on his nose. A piece of tape sits over his mouth. His eyes are slate grey- he can’t be more than seven sweeps.

“This is a troll who has been tried and judged by the empire,” Vadaya says. “It will be your duty to execute his sentence.”

Horror strains up against the roof of your stomach- or maybe it was bile. There was a difference between reading that execution was a common punishment and facing someone you were supposed to execute yourself.

He holds out a firearm handle first that you numbly take. You had discussed this- even with training it was unlikely you’d be able to take on an opponent with offensive psi. A gun would give you the edge you needed to compete and you were trained accordingly. The idea of pointing the weapon at somebody never sit well with you and now your stomach was churning. A compliance exercise, your second mind whispers. He’s testing to see how well you obey your orders. If you don’t do it, then your life is forfeit.

You check the magazine, pull back the hammer, but you don’t raise the gun. It weighs heavy in your hands, as your eyes are drawn back to the prisoner.

“W-what did he do?” you ask. He’s shaking, even if his eyes hold an angry glare.

“Treason,” Vadaya says. “He acted against the empire.”

“I mean what exactly did he do?” You have to know. Your gaze swings back up to Vadaya, searching for some kind of answer on his impassive face. “Did he cull someone?”

“We are not the judge or the jury,” Vadaya says. “Merely the executioner. Think of him as a rebel and not a troll and strike him down.”

“I was a rebel,” you say, staring at Vadaya, whose forehead is starting to crease. “Why- why can’t we do for him like we did for me?”

“It is not possible to rehabilitate every troll that makes this choice,” he replies. “You were a special case.”

“What do I have that he doesn’t?” you exclaim. He’s yellow- you wouldn’t be surprised if his psi was more offensive than yours, a better fit for Scimitar. You can see he’s taller than you and he doesn’t have the physical defects you did, a missing eye, a broken leg, that made your recovery even more expensive. Maybe he was stupid, but stupid soldiers wouldn’t ask so many uncomfortable questions. You were being stupid, right now, to balk at this right here, instead of just shooting him and going hive to cry. This was a compliance exercise. If you don’t do this your life is forfeit.

“Potential,” Vadaya says, a hint of an edge in his voice. “Do not compare yourself to him. You have achieved too much to throw it away now.”

That’s why he commented on your progress before entering this room. So you’d outweigh the life of a rebel with your victories and his approval. He’s given you a gun. What if you turned it on him? Did he think of that? Would you survive? Would he? You shake your head vigorously to get rid of the thought, horrified. You’re not going to shoot Vadaya.

“Traitor,” a hoarse voice rasps out. It’s the rebel- the tape gag flaps, only sticking halfway on his face. “Coward. Switched sides and can’t do the dirty work huh?”

“You’re the traitor!” you snap. “You’re the rebel.”

“I’d rather die than be where you are,” he hisses. “Do it. Shoot.”

“No,” you mutter to yourself, putting a hand to your head, the gun hanging by your side. “I can’t do this. You can’t make me.”

“Every Scimitar does this,”  Vadaya says, trying another tack. “I did it as a recruit. My classmates did it and yours will too. If you do not, you will not be able to move forward.”

This was general practice then- they didn’t just procure one rebel for you to practice culling someone. Over the sweeps, hundreds of grey eyed pupas have sat in these cages and waited for Scimitar recruits to deliver the final blow. When you were pulled in, when did they decide to rehabilitate you and how close were you to sitting in one of those cages?

You could always shoot yourself. If you do it quickly, Vadaya won’t be able to stop you. No construct he could make in that time would be able to stop a bullet at that range. Maybe the rebel in the cage could take your place. No, that was stupid. You would be dead and then Vadaya would execute the prisoner anyway.

You look back up at him again. He stares back with grey pupa eyes, still incensed, still hateful. There’s not even a smallest bit of remorse for his actions. Just anger and fear.

“Why don’t you want a second chance?” you ask.

“Daginy,” Vadaya says in warning. You ignore him, watching the prisoner.

He just spits on the floor of the cage, and when he looks back up at you, he narrows his eyes.

“Hey, wait I know you. From the-” purple flows from his mouth, as he chokes and falls silent as Vadaya’s purple constructs form a gag around his mouth. You whirl to look at Vadaya, the glow fading from his eyes.

“That is enough,” he thunders. Your pumper leaps into your throat as you take a few steps backwards. This is a compliance test and you failed. A soldier that doesn’t follow orders is useless. You knew your life was forfeit you know he’s- Vadaya points at the prisoner.

“Cull him,” he commands.

You try to swallow but your throat is dry. You turn slowly to face the rebel who is still staring at you. He knows you, somewhere, somehow, he knows you, and you’ve never wished for mind reading before so badly, only that you know you’ve pushed Vadaya too far today already. You don’t want to kill the prisoner. He’s still young, he could have a future, a better one, where he can make the right choices. If you shoot him here he will have none of that, but he’s dead either way.

You raise the gun and ready it. You don’t have a choice either. The smart thing to do is shoot. If you refuse, Vadaya will kill you both. Your hands will be as unstained as they can be, but you will be dead. Was that worth it? Your hand shakes slightly as the rebel stares down the barrel with his grey, grey eyes.

What was Vadaya thinking, when he did this? Was this also a choice he made? You had two of them- you look for a third. Could you use your psi to fake the prisoner’s death? Maybe he could manage an escape when they disposed of the body.

You squeeze the trigger, hit him in the shoulder. He cries out, muffled by the psionic gag when he hits the ground, leaking yellow blood and curling up best the best he can. His glasses skitter off his face and out of the cage. You could get them for him later.   

You step in closer, and he shies away. Your psi whispers when you spell out the letters to tell him to stay down, in his hue, close enough to his face for him to see before they morph easily to fake droplets before you pull the trigger again, aiming for the bottom of the cage, but plugging in an illusion of a bullet wound into his center mass.

The prisoner jerks when you pull the trigger and lays still, but you know he’s still alive. You let the firearm fall to your side and take a shaky breath, and then another. Well that problem was over. Now you just have to make sure to keep him alive.

You shot him in the shoulder- he’d need medical care. If you leave the room the illusion of the second bullet wound would disappear and you don’t know who will be here to take care of the bodies. Would he be able to manage? And if he couldn’t- the only thing worse for you than not killing a rebel would be getting caught in faking the death of someone you supposedly execute, but at least now you had options.

You look over at Vadaya, to see if he’s caught on. He looks as impassive as the day you first met him- no, there’s a slight crease of concern in his brow. He was concerned? Had he noticed or not?

“Daginy,” Vadaya says softly. “The most you can give an enemy is dignity,” he says. “But an enemy is merely an obstacle. You must see them this way.”

You keep your eyes fixed on the fallen troll and swallow hard. “I-I know,” you say.

Vadaya walks up to the rebel in the cage, and you watch his every move. Would he examine the body? Would he figure out your deception?

The worst happens then. The kid you shot coughs, a bit of blood dribbling from his mouth. You freeze. You’re dead. 

Vadaya turns sharply, staring at the still living troll. You feel dread flush the warmth out of you as you watch him kneel next to the cage. The injured troll wriggles the best he can out of reach but Vadaya easily presses a hand against the fake wound to watch his fingers come away dry.

“Daginy,” he says, calmer than you thought he’d be. “Come here.”

There’s no earthly reason you should obey, except for the fact you’re shuffling forward, your fingers numb and frozen. The rebel kid whimpers as Vadaya stands up and gestures to him.

“Cull him,” he says. “Do your duty and serve the empire. No more tricks.”

The kid stares up at you, his eyes wide and frightened. You raise the gun- what are you doing? You’re not- you can’t. You can hear your pumper in your ears and the rise and fall of your chest. It’s not fast, just heavy. Like you’re trying to catch your breath after running laps. It’s like the opposite of a panic- your thoughts move like syrup. Your mind stumbles over your objections under Vadaya’s shadow until you just settle for two words. You won’t. You drop the gun on the ground with a clatter.

“No,” you say. “I won’t do it.”

Vadaya puts his hand on your shoulder, heavy with a promise.

“Kneel,” he says. You do, your knees hitting the ground hard enough to bruise, but that was hardly an issue when you were about to die.

You’re surprised though, when Vadaya kneels down next to you and picks up the gun. He’s never needed it. You watch, numb, as he takes your hand, turns it so that he can curl your fingers around the grip of the gun. He puts your finger on the trigger, pulls your hand so the barrel of the gun rests against the rebel child’s forehead, then withdraws. You can still feel the weight of his hand on yours.

Yellow tears leak out of the rebel child’s eyes. You can see his freckles from here. 

“Pull the trigger,” Vadaya says and his hand falls on your shoulder again.

You hesitate. His hand tightens around your shoulder.

“ _Pull_.”

There’s a gunshot. When you open your eyes, the child is dead. The gun slides from your nerveless fingers. Vadaya’s hand on your shoulder gives you a pat, before he stands, his long shadow stretching in front of you.

“Get up, Daginy,” he says, and you obey, your eyes on the ground.

“Remember that you are a soldier now and he was a rebel,” Vadaya says. “He was not worthy of your respect or your mercy.”

You blink. Should you say something? Do something? You wait for something to happen.

There’s a pause, before Vadaya steps forward again.

“It will be easier next time,” he says softly. Next time. Next time. That seems like it should be significant to you.

“Daginy?” Vadaya approaches and reaches out a hand to put on your shoulder.

You flinch violently, and take several steps back. Vadaya’s face falls, hurt, and you wish you could take it back, but something cracks in the smooth, slow syrup that coats your pan.

“I- I’m sorry, Vadaya,” you say, “I-I think I need some time alone.”

“I see,” he says slowly. “Then you are dismissed. I will walk you back to the recruit wing.”

You give him a salute, and when you leave the room you don’t dare turn back. Somehow you manage to walk the rest of the way back to recruit wing with your head buzzing but without further incident.

“It has been a trying day,” Vadaya says as you make it to the recruit wing. “I will return here at 0800 to make sure you are alright.”  
  
“Yes sir,” you tell the ground, give a salute, and turn sharply on your heel.

You’re back early- most the other recruits aren’t in so you remain unmolested until your door is safely closed behind you.

This is familiar to you. You’ve had a lot of breakdowns in the privacy of your room- when you cried after spars you had lost because you had panicked, or some other recruit decided to test how badly you’d flinch when surprised. You’d do your best to keep a straight face until you could come hive, hold onto your shoulders and sob out the shame.

But this isn’t shame. You’re not sure what it is.

You lean back against the door shut behind you and look at your hands. There’s yellow blood on your gloves. Your stomach heaves You run for the toilet and the acid on your tongue at least feels like something. You’re shaking, you notice. Your hands grip the rim of the toilet seat, as you try to catch your breath. The gloves, a gift from Vadaya, flake dried blood, so you rip them off with a viciousness that surprises you and throw them into the garbage.

You’re shaking. Your fists are clenched tight at your sides, every breath you take rings in your ears and you don’t want to cry. You want to rip out everything inside you that let that child die, to shriek until your throat comes apart, to break apart the recruit wing until everyone knows exactly how helpless you felt when Vadaya put that gun in your hand to the rebel kid’s head.

It’s not shame, it’s anger.

You’ve never been angry, not like this, not with a roiling monster in your chest, banging on your ribs, demanding to be heard. You’re really not sure what to do about it, really, only that you don’t think you’ll be sensible until you can hit something.

So you whirl around and hit the concrete wall, fist clenched tight with your thumb on the outside, straight from your shoulder, like Vadaya had taught you. The blow bruise your knuckles, cracks against the prosthetic finger Vadaya had all but forced you to get. The blow doesn’t phase the wall, however, solid and uncaring so you kick it too, bringing up your knee and snapping your foot out in the proper kicks you’ve been trained in. How much of you was anything but what Vadaya wanted you to be anyway?

You kick the bookshelf until the contents cascade down your head, all gifts from Vadaya over the perigees. One lands in your recuperacoon and you don’t even care. You seize the sopor logged book and dash it against a wall where it lands haphazardly, spine cracked and pages bent on the ground.

“Next time,” Vadaya had said. There would be a next time. Why had you not thought about what a soldier actually did? What did you think you were actually working towards? You wanted to belong, but you didn’t want to belong to this.

Everything on your desk, your work, your textbooks, your notes, all to study for a future you suddenly loathe, you sweep it all off your desk. Your pens, highlighters and scissors scatter across the floor in an enormous crash. You throw open your closet door, full of uniforms, uniforms, uniforms, rip them off their hangers and hurl them across the room.

You have a single picture in a frame- Vadaya had taken you flying, and you had been terrified but when you had gotten off you had wanted a memento. It’s a shot you had taken with Vadaya’s palmhusk, a selfie shot in the hull of his ship. Your eyes were watery from the shrieking you had done but you had a wide grin on your face. Vadaya’s looking into the camera from the background a hint of a smile on his face. He had printed it out and framed it for you to put in your room.

It sits on a window sill, next to your recuperacoon, placed there so you could see it when you woke up every night, to remind you that there was something good about life, that there would be things to look forward too.

Now you seize it and dash it against the floor, the glass pane shattering apart into a million pieces. Your dumb face still smiles up at you, proud of something stupid, glad to be given a tiny bit of freedom in a prison Vadaya had put you in, because you were too ignorant, too blind, too desperate to see what he was turning you into, that you were a weapon he built and to be pointed at children, and when a sound finally tears out of your throat, it’s a wordless scream.

You scream at your stupid, ignorant face, at Vadaya smiling distantly in the background, curling up to squeeze out any remaining air, till you fall to your hands and knees, and when you run out of breath and have to gasp for air, the next sound you make is a ragged sob.

You finally get it. This is why people rebelled against the empire. This is why you rebelled against the empire, when the empire was the sort to look at a stupid young rebel and send him to be execution fodder for the educational purposes of its young soldiers. Forced their soldiers to murder someone in cold blood, no matter how many protests, arguments, disavowals. Vadaya had- he had- you still don’t want to think about it.

How different are you really? From the rebel you used to be? From the rebel that died in the cage you left behind? Vadaya never went into detail about your past, but you had always had the impression you were the sort that selfishly sent trolls to their deaths, without remorse, without looking back, that you had to be stopped. But if you had been that person, if you had that in you, wouldn’t you have pulled the trigger when he asked you to? You know you’re capable of a lot- that second mind, that ruthless part of you knew the smart move was to shoot the rebel child when he said, but you had balked.  

You’re not a remorseless killer. Maybe you never were.

But Vadaya  _is_.

You cry until you’re exhausted, but even by then you don’t feel any better. You killed that child. You didn’t even have the courage to look when you did it. Vadaya- he had forced you, but no, no no, you had a choice. You could have dropped the gun. You could have emptied out the cartridge into the floor. You could have emptied it out in your head. You did it because you were afraid. As if that was a good reason to kill a shackled child. You wouldn’t do it again. You’d kill yourself first.  You can barely come up with a reason why you shouldn’t kill yourself now.

Your limbs feel like little more than wooden sticks held together with puppet string, but you manage to pull yourself to sit up halfway and lean against your recuperacoon. The picture of that day in the ship still stares up at you, the frame that held it still shattered around you. You reach out to pick up a shard of glass.

You tilt your hand, and just beyond the cuff of your sleeve you can see the scar that winds like wire around your wrist. You barely remember your other life, but you know this is a scar from when you were taken and held and your captor had taken what she wanted. It seems like the simplest, most obvious thing in the world to push the edge of the shard against that scar, and pull it against your skin till it opens up and bleeds.

The pain and the sight of blood- it’s like dousing your thinkpan in cold water, satisfying the part of you that had been screaming for you to suffer, suddenly quiet. Suddenly you’re calm, surrounded by the wreckage of your own making. No, dying now wouldn’t do anything. Brown blood drips down your arm- you dug deep- you clap your other hand against the wound. You shouldn’t have done that, but you can’t bring yourself to care, too awash in the calm, and the relief that you didn’t have to deal with the anger and hatred anymore. Besides, you’re just as trapped now as you were when you were getting tortured. It was better to remind yourself of that, then let yourself fall into old complacency again.

You press your wrist until it stops bleeding, then swipe a finger through the sopor slime in your recuperacoon and smear it over the cut on your wrist. The slime prickles against your skin as it numbs out the pain and you wrap it.  Vadaya wouldn’t notice. You’d keep an illusion over it if you needed.

You start picking up your books. The dorms are mostly empty now, but it was still possible someone heard your outburst.  You’d rather leave as little evidence that you were this upset by your training tonight as possible. You clean the blood off the floor. The uniforms all go back to the closet, your school work on the desk, your books in the shelf. The one that dropped into the coon is beyond saving- “The Art of War,” by Suntzu- you’ve already read it twice anyway. 

 You retrieve the gloves from the trash can and scrub the blood from them. You loathe the idea, but they were the only ones you had and you wore them constantly. It’d be noticable if you lost them today. The photograph you keep too- Vadaya knows you have it, but he’s never in your room. You toss the frame and slide the picture into your desk so you don’t have to see it every day but you keep the shard of glass taped up under your bathroom sink. Just in case.  

One way or another, you’re going to get out of here.


End file.
